


If You Love Me, If You Hate Me

by EvensDramaticShenanigans



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Enemies With Benefits kinda, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Football | Soccer, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Locker Room, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Nude Photos, Skam International Secret Admirer, Smut, Soccer AU, Sports, but it's a somewhat graphic description?, it's just a nosebleed, sports team au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/EvensDramaticShenanigans
Summary: Isak could be chill. He was the chillest. He was a mature, reasonable adult that was perfectly capable of controlling his emotions. Not even Even could ruin that.or, the soccer au that one (1) person asked for <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jules1398](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules1398/gifts).



> Happy Secret Admirer Day!! It’s finally upon us!!
> 
> Julia!!!!! Heyyy!! It’s me!! You’re Secret Admirer!! Woo! Oh my god, you have no idea how hard it was to keep this from you akfljsdg. I wasn’t the most subtle at times and I definitely talked about my fic in front of you and with you lol, but I’d like to think I did a pretty okay job at keeping this a secret! I guess I’ll find out haha. 
> 
> Julia, my love, when I looked at Elfster to see who I got for this I was sososoooo excited to see your name!! Then I looked at your wishlist and I saw sports team au and I was like _this_. _This is exactly what I’m going to do_. And lemme tell you, as much as I complained about this fic, I really have had so much fun writing it! Soccer is my absolute favorite sport so I loved being able to write about it and not have to wing it on the terminology because I actually know what I’m talking about for once (although, do I really know what I’m talking about because this is Norwegian soccer and I’m not versed in that at all omg.) 
> 
> The very first thing I imagined when I decided to write this fic was what happens in chapters 3 and 4 so you’ll have to wait to see The Scenes That Started It All lol. But from then on I just kept coming up with idea after idea to add and it just kept getting longer and longer and well, it turned into this monster of a fic. I hope it doesn’t seem to drag on or jump around as much as I think it does. And I really hope you like it as well! I wanted this fic to be absolutely perfect because I love you so much and you deserve nothing but the best. I really hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> We’ve grown so close over the past few months and I’m so insanely happy that I have you in my life. You’re such a wonderful friend and you have the biggest heart. Thank you for always putting a smile on my face and brightening up my day. I hope this fic can do the same for you!  
> I love you so fucking much, Julia <3333333
> 
> Annnnd the biggest thank yous to my wonderful betas Josie and Sarah.Thank you both for taking on the daunting task that is betaing this Mess™ of words lmao. Y’all are stars I love you both soso very much. <33
> 
> Another huge thank you to Mikki for putting up with me and this fic for over a month. You are the biggest MVP out there Mikki— this fic wouldn’t be what it is without you. Thank you for listening to me complain and panic and freak out and thank you for always offering the sweetest words of encouragement and for helping me brainstorm and plan and figure my shit out. I love you so much <33
> 
> And of course, shout out to the Morally Ambiguous squad for being the absolute best support system out there and for always encouraging me and pushing me to get off of Youtube and stop watching Evak videos to write this thing haha. I had so much fun complaining and panicking and second guessing about SA with you all <333
> 
> I did a ton of research on how soccer works in Norway and what the league and different tournaments were called and how they all worked. I did my best with the help of Google, but I’m no expert on Norwegian soccer, so if I got something wrong I apologize. The Norwegian Football Cup, aka Cupen, is a real tournament, and Rosenborg as well as all other teams mentioned in this fic are real teams that play in the Eliteserien
> 
> The title comes from What The Hell by Avril Lavigne. Thank you Josie for this, you’re the best omfg. 
> 
> This fic is going to have 10 chapters and I’m planning to update it every Thursday and Sunday! :)  
> I currently have 7/10 chapters completely written out and waiting to be edited, so hopefully I will be able to finish the last three before we get there haha. 
> 
>  
> 
> Now, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy thissss!

“We’re getting a new player,” Coach Anders announced, slapping his hand against his clipboard. “He’s incredibly skilled and will be a great asset to this team, so I expect you all to make him feel welcome here when he joins us tomorrow,” he informed. “Now, hit the showers and I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning.”

With that, Isak and the rest of his teammates split from the tight circle they’d formed around their coach as they listened to his announcements and critiques of their practice. Isak made a beeline for his bag and fished his water bottle out of the main pocket, flipping open the cap and taking a long gulp from it.

Jonas clasped a hand over his shoulder and grabbed his own water bottle. “A new player, eh? What do you think of that?” He wondered.

“If he’s as skilled as Coach Anders made him out to be I think it’s gonna be great. There’s no way we won’t win Cupen at this rate,” Magnus chimed in, dropping his keeper gloves on the turf as he knocked back some Gatorade. 

Isak, on the other hand, just shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to see how good of a player he really is before we make that call,” he said. 

“He must be pretty good if Coach recruited him  _ and _ gave him a position,” Mahdi pointed out, collapsing down onto the grass so he could start removing his gear. “He doesn’t just hand them out like candy.”

“Not necessarily true,” Isak disagreed, shooting a quick glance towards Chris and William over where they were collecting their things. He raised his eyebrows, his head quirking to the side, with the ghost of a smile flitting over his lips as he nodded towards them.  “He gave those two fucktrucks spots.”

Mahdi snorted and waved his hand dismissively through the air. “Okay, I’ll give you that,” he laughed. “But the rest of us did earn our positions fair and square. And I think this new guy might actually be legit this time. He could be a real asset like Coach Anders said.”

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow then, won’t we?” Isak responded, pushing his cleats into the main pocket of his bag before he zipped it shut. He swung the bag over his shoulder and saluted the boys before heading out.

  
  


Isak always liked to show up at the field each morning a good hour or so before everyone else did. 

The first rays of sunlight were peeking over the treetops and the early morning chill still lingered in the air. No one else was around to disturb the peace. Being alone like this was always so calming to Isak— he enjoyed being able to bask in the silence as he warmed his body up with a short mile jog around the pitch. He threw all of his focus into getting his blood pumping with a few speed and agility ladder drills with nothing around to distract him.

And normally, Isak was the only one on the pitch— the only one crazy enough to be awake this early while the rest of his teammates slept in for at least another thirty to forty-five minutes. But when Isak walked into the locker room at seven thirty that morning he was surprised to see a pair of clean black Nikes pushed neatly against the locker two doors down from his own and a brand new purple lock hanging from the handle. 

As he lowered his bag to the ground and stepped out of his own shoes, it dawned on him that these must belong to the new guy, because there was no way in hell that any of his teammates would be at the field this early before practice officially started. Usually, most of them cut it close and ended up showing up with barely two minutes to throw on their practice jerseys and lace up their cleats.

Quickly, Isak twisted the lock on his locker and pulled the door open. He discarded the cozy grey hoodie he’d been wearing in favor of tugging on a thick long-sleeved black Under Armor turtleneck that had the number twenty-one and Valtersen in fat white type on the back, the Rosenborg logo (a sideways diamond with RBK in the center and two golden stars above it) sitting proudly on the left side of his chest. He stuffed his arms into his track jacket, zipped it up to his chin and shoved his favorite maroon beanie over his curls.

Once his top half was situated, he slipped on his practice shorts and put his warm up sweats on over them. He was already wearing his black practice socks and he hardly ever wore his shin guards to practice, so all he had left to do was lace up his cleats and head out to the pitch.

When he finally shouldered his bag and pushed his way out of the locker room, he instantly spotted a shape huddled up on the bench that sat on the sidelines. As Isak made his way closer to the figure they became more discernable, and he realized that it was a boy hunched over himself to try and keep warm. His arms were folded across his chest, his hands tucked safely under his armpits and his leg was bouncing in front of him to try and keep his blood flowing. 

Without hesitating, Isak dropped his bag onto the ground, the thud of his water bottle loud enough to startle the person and catch his attention.

“Halla,” Isak greeted, not looking up from his bag as he bent over to unzip it and fish out his football. 

“Oh, halla,” a smooth, deep voice replied, capturing Isak’s attention now. “This is the field Rosenborg practices at right? I’m, uh, kind of really early, and I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here yet,” the boy chuckled sheepishly.

Isak tore his eyes from his bag only for his vision to be met with a pair of shins— a lovely pair of bare shins that he could already see goosebumps forming on. He would have had to bite back a laugh if his breath hadn’t been taken away the further his eyes moved up because  _ god damn _ did this guy have the nicest calves Isak had ever laid eyes on— and he’d seen some pretty nice calves in his days as a professional football player. They were bare as well, a mistake that Isak was sure the boy was already regretting, though Isak certainly wasn’t. He quite enjoyed being able to see the defined muscles in his legs and the sinewy strength of his athletic thighs. 

Despite the muscular build of his legs however, Isak couldn’t ignore how long and gangly they looked, and part of him was a bit wary about his ability to even run on them, let alone kick a ball with them. But like Mahdi said yesterday, Coach Anders must have seen something in him, and Isak decided to reserve his judgement until he’d at least seen him play. 

Quickly, Isak dragged his eyes up the rest of the boy’s body (taking in the way his lean torso seemed to stretch on forever, and how his shoulders were just the right amount of broad) before finally settling on the head that sat on those broad shoulders.

And, well, he couldn’t say he was surprised by what he saw. After all, if the rest of his body (what Isak could see of it anyways) was that nice to look at; well, Isak could do the math. He watched as the boy’s pretty blue eyes darted from side to side, the nerves clearly etched across his face. He was chewing anxiously on his chapped lower lip, and Isak followed the movement as the tip of his pink tongue poked out of his mouth and licked over his lips— something Isak was sure was a nervous habit. 

Isak rose from his squat, dumping his football to the side before sticking a hand out for the boy to shake. “This is Rosenborg’s field,” he confirmed with a nod. “I’m Isak,” he introduced, flashing his teeth. “And you must be the new recruit, yeah?”

The boy shook his head and grasped onto Isak’s outstretched hand. He had a firm handshake, and Isak couldn’t help but admire the way their hands looked clasped together. “That would be me,” he laughed softly. “I’m Even.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Even,” Isak said politely. “And I know it’s probably just because it’s your first day and all, but just for the record, you don’t have to get here this early. Ever,” he informed after a pause. “Especially if you don’t plan on layering up.” Isak sent Even a cheeky smirk and felt his insides warm when a blush rose to Even’s cheeks as he looked down at his own attire. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve actually been training in London for the past few months. Haven’t been here in Trondheim for a while. I know it’s not much warmer over in London but I guess I was so used to training indoors that I didn’t think when I got dressed this morning and left,” Even explained, shaking his head at himself. He was wearing a good-natured smile, though, and didn’t seem to be too bothered by the temperature yet. He’d only been outside for maybe five minutes though.

“London, wow. That must have been pretty cool,” Isak commented, lifting his eyebrows in amazement towards Even.

Even’s face brightened immediately, and he nodded eagerly. “Oh, it was. Definitely worth it, too. I mean, it helped get me here, right?” He held his hands up on either side of his body, bent at the elbows, and gave a little shrug, his lips pressing together as he tilted his head to the side. He looked like he wanted to continue talking about London, to gush about all of the people he must have met and programs he must’ve been apart of, but he pressed his lips together to hold himself back. Isak was kind of endeared. 

“I suppose it did, then,” Isak agreed. He tossed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the pitch and pressed the side of his cleat against the football in front of him. “I think I’m gonna hit the pitch now, but it was nice to meet you, Even. I’m sure we’ll talk more during practice,” he said.

“Oh, right,” Even hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it was nice meeting you too, Isak. I think I’m just going to try to keep warm over here until everyone else arrives,” he laughed softly. 

“Sounds good,” Isak conceded with his own small chuckle before he turned on his heel, taking the ball with him as he jogged out onto the field. He left the ball somewhere off to the side before taking a few minutes to quickly stretch out all of the proper muscles before he began training. 

Once he finished stretching, he took his place at the corner of the goal line— right next to the corner flag— and started his morning run. It only took four laps around the perimeter of the pitch to equal the distance of one mile, and that’s all Isak usually did. Occasionally, he would go for two miles, but more often than not he stuck with just the one and spent the rest of the time before practice fine tuning his speed and agility skills as well. 

The entire time he ran he could feel Even’s eyes on him. It wasn’t a harsh kind of stare or anything— it didn’t make Isak uncomfortable, and he didn’t feel as though he were being sized up or judged. It did make something under his skin buzz, though, but he just couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly that feeling meant.

 

By the time the rest of his teammates began showing up at the field, Isak was working his way through his ladder drills. Quick steps into each following square. Fancy patterns with crossing legs. Two steps in, one step out. He even tried a more complicated one that involved his football. It wasn’t until he heard his name being called that he finally paused his movements and looked towards the sidelines. His chest was heaving from the exertion he had just put himself through. He wiped his forearm across the sweat that was glistening against his forehead before waving back at Magnus, who was flapping his arm wildly in his direction. He had a big grin on his face as he beckoned Isak over to where he, Mahdi, and Jonas were standing in a little circle, chatting before Coach started practice.

Isak took a moment to fold up his ladder and collect his football before he made his way towards his friends. “Hey boys,” he addressed.

“Hey, Isak,” Jonas said, tipping his chin towards Isak in greeting. “Good run this morning?”

“Oh, yeah. M’feeling much warmer now,” Isak grinned. “Got these puppies all loosened up and ready to go for today,” he added, bending his knees a little and smacking his thighs with both hands.

Of course that was the very second that Even decided to pop into their circle and squeeze himself right in between Magnus and Mahdi, both of whom were snickering at Isak. “Halla, Isak,” Even chirped, flashing a big smile towards him. 

Quickly, Isak straightened up and pulled his hands off of his thighs. He sent his own weak smile in Even’s direction and wiggled his fingers in greeting at the other boy. “Er, hey Even,” he replied. “Oh, boys this is our new teammate, Even,” Isak introduced after catching a few curious looks from his friends. 

Mahdi held out his hand for Even to shake. “Hey man, I’m Mahdi.”

“Jonas,” Jonas said simply, taking Even’s hand next.

When Even turned to greet Magnus, however, Magnus just pushed his outstretched hand to the side and threw his arms around Even’s neck, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. It caught Even off guard at first, but he was hugging Magnus back within seconds— a happy smile pulling at his lips. 

“I’m Magnus. It’s great to have you here!” Magnus exclaimed, patting Even on the back twice before he released him from his arms. 

“Thanks, I’m excited to be here. Everyone I’ve met so far has been really nice. I mean, I know we’ve really just said hello and exchanged names, but no one’s glared at me or stuck their nose up, so that’s more than I could ask for already,” Even laughed, throwing a glance towards the other guys surrounding them.

“Generally everyone on this team gets along, so that shouldn’t really be a problem,” Mahdi informed. “It’s pretty chill here.”

Even nodded his head, his eyes flickering back towards Isak. “That’s good. I try to be a drama free kind of guy,” Even responded, dragging his hand in a straight line through the air in front of him. 

Before anyone could say anything else Coach Anders was blowing his whistle, signalling the start of practice. “Okay boys, gather up for a minute,” he called out, and all the players formed a circle around him to give their full attention. “Yesterday I mentioned that our new player would be joining us. Most of you have probably met him already, but for those of you that haven’t,” Coach Anders beckoned for Even— who was still standing between Magnus and Mahdi— to move inwards. “This is Even Bech Næsheim. He’s our brand new striker.”

Even flashed a self-conscious smile and lifted his hand in a half-wave at the rest of the team.

“Even, I’m sure the boys can introduce themselves during warm ups if they haven’t already,” Coach added, patting Even on the back. He turned his attention back to the team and put on his game face. “Now, let’s stop standing around and get going!” 

And with another blow of his whistle, everyone dispersed, jogging onto the field.

 

The first half an hour of practice went by fairly quick, as it always did. The team captain led the players through their warm up routine, starting with the proper stretches and some short sprints to get their blood flowing and muscles loose before moving on to a few simple passing drills. Usually all of the boys chatted animatedly while they warmed up, getting all of that out before they got to the meat of the practice: the important drills and plays that required their full attention and complete concentration. 

Even seemed to take to the team right away. He joined in on the conversations easily, offering up his opinion and sticking in his two cents whenever necessary. He had the rest of the boys laughing within minutes while he recounted a few anecdotes from his travels and experiences in London. 

“The rain was absolutely  _ torrential _ — I mean it was coming down in sheets, we could barely see a foot in front of us— and we had to run through it to get to the car which Noora parked on the fucking complete opposite side of the stadium since we’d been there so early the parking lot hadn’t even opened yet. We nearly got hit by like, three cars trying to cross the street. It was crazy,” Even recounted, gesticulating wildly and laughing to himself at the memory.

“Wait, hold on— did you just say Noora?” Chris butted in, holding his hand up to stop anyone else from speaking. His eyes were trained on Even, an expectant expression on his face as he waited for him to answer. When he didn’t, Chris expanded a little. “As in Noora Sætre? The trainer for Chelsea?”

Even just nodded simply. “Yeah, Noora,” he answered, shrugging casually, as if dropping the fact that he’d spent a few months training with the world renowned Noora Sætre was no big deal. 

“Fuck, she’s hot as hell,” William added, nudging Even in the ribs with his elbow. “Did you fuck her? God, if I spent months with her you bet your ass I’d’ve hit that as soon as possible.” The smirk that was warping his lips was lecherous and quite frankly repulsive, and Even’s face immediately twisted up in disgust at William’s crude comments.

“Um, actually I had several very nice dinners with her and her girlfriend,” Even responded, keeping his voice cool and clipped as he shut William down. “They have a very lovely home there, and Eva— her  _ girlfriend _ — is a great cook.”

The smirk melted off of William’s face, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut. He schooled his features into something more neutral while he looked away from Even’s calculating stare.

Isak, who had been not so subtly listening  to the conversation, let out a snort and rolled his eyes at William. 

“Whatever, dude,” William tacked on a second later before he grabbed Chris’s arm and the two of them shuffled off to find a corner further away to finish their stretching.

 

All throughout training, Isak was feeling great.

The whole practice had been going seamlessly. Everyone had caught on to the new plays Coach Anders explained, executing them almost perfectly the first few times around. They’d barely booted any balls too wide or over the net when they went into shooting drills— almost all of them were on frame. And when Coach Anders demanded they get in a few full field sprints to up their stamina and speed, there had barely been any complaints. At the end of practice, Coach Anders made them fine tune their penalty shots, telling them they needed to perfect these before they got to the knockout stages of Cupen, because he was sure they’d be going up against some tough teams— and he wouldn’t count on the games not going into penalty kicks at the end. Those had been a bit shaky, but that’s why they started working on them early on in the season.

And Even. Well, Even fit right in with their team. It hadn’t taken him long to pick up on how certain teammates played, and within no time he was already predicting the places he’d need to be to help them out. Isak had to admit, his awareness of the field space and the other players was quite impressive. It turned out that his long legs weren’t a hinderance at all, as Isak had worried— he knew exactly how to use them, and their length caused his strides to be much longer, thus allowing him to beat out opponents in a race for the ball. And the longer Isak watched Even play, the more secure he felt in Coach Anders’s decision to bring Even onto the team. (It also helped that Even’s earlier interaction with William had squashed any worries that Even would fall in line with him and Chris.)

Not to mention, all of their teammates were already half in love with Even just for the mere fact that throughout the entire practice, in every single drill they did, Even had not missed a single shot he’d taken. Every single ball he’d sent flying towards the goal had found its way past Magnus’s hands and into the back of the net. Isak was impressed by it— who wouldn’t be? Making every shot taken was a statistical improbability, so the fact that Even actually did that, yeah, it was impressive. Even to Isak.

 

At the end of practice when Coach Anders blew his whistle, everyone jogged off the field— absolutely bone tired yet completely satisfied with the day’s practice. If the giant smile on coach Anders’s face was anything to go by, it seemed as though he was satisfied as well.

“Great work today, boys,” he announced once everyone had circled up around him for their usual after-practice-chat. “I saw a lot of hard work out there and a lot of focus, too. All of you caught onto the plays pretty quickly, and you’re well on your way to perfecting them and using them in the matches. Keep that up every practice and you’ll be going places for sure.” Coach Anders scanned his eyes across the group of players in front of him until his eyes landed on Even, and his smile grew impossibly wider. “And Even, my boy,” he clapped Even on the back, “I’m impressed with you. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone gel this quickly with the team before. You are going to do great things, I can tell.” Then, Coach Anders lifted his face towards the sky and stretched his arms out wide, a determined expression on his face. “I see the Cupen trophy in our future, boys.”

At that, the team let out a cheer and suddenly excited chatter broke out amongst them all. They still had a few weeks to go before the first round of Cupen, but after today’s practice the anticipation was already beginning to set in. 

Isak, Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi made their way towards their things so they could gather them up and hit the showers. Even made to follow them since his things were near Isak’s, but as he turned around to walk away, Coach Anders called out his name and motioned for him to come talk to him. He shrugged at the boys, who were looking at him curiously, and called a quick  _ it’s okay, don’t wait up _ , before jogging back over to Coach Anders.

They made their way into the locker room, and it seemed as though they weren’t the only ones who noticed Even’s absence. Immediately, all conversation turned from Cupen to Even. Isak could hear little snippets of their commentaries; things like  _ damn, that boy knows how to kick a ball _ and  _ Coach was right, he’s amazing. Where the hell did he come from? _ and  _ Even Bech Næsheim— it evens sounds like a proper star’s name _ .

Isak kicked off his cleats and removed most of his clothes before he headed over to the showers. The hot water felt amazing on his sore muscles, and he was content just sitting under the steam for a few minutes basking in it. 

When he finally finished cleaning himself up and shut the water off, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to his locker. Jonas and Mahdi were already out of the showers, dripping in their towels in front of their lockers as they shuffled through their things for clean clothes. Isak tipped his chin towards them in greeting and began to dig through his own bag for his t-shirt and sweats. 

Suddenly, he felt a sharp thwack on his ass— he jolted out of his thoughts just in time to see the corner of a towel flying away from him.

“Hey, what the fuck was that for?” He hissed at a cackling Magnus, who was tossing his towel to the side and pulling his t-shirt over his head.

“Dunno. Getting your attention, I suppose,” Magnus shrugged. “Even’s not back yet?” He asked, looking around for the other boy. “I like him— he’s a cool dude.”

“He is,” Mahdi acknowledged, nodding in agreement.

“What did you think of him then, Issy?” Jonas chimed in, his tone light and teasing, lifting an eyebrow in Isak’s direction. “Did he pass your judgement?”

Isak tilted his head from one side to the other, contemplating his answer for a moment. “He’s pretty good, and he seems nice,” he replied simply. He dropped his towel and stepped into his sweatpants, then finally turned to face the boys. “I talked to him a bit before practice— he was early too. I guess he’s had quite the year in London.”

“Oh yeah, he trained with Noora! That’s fucking insane, man,” Jonas exclaimed, shaking his head with wide eyes. 

“I mean, no wonder— he’s got some amazing foot skills,” Mahdi pointed out.

“Oh fuck, did you see his shots on goal? They were fucking amazing. I could barely save them! Actually, I think he made every single fucking shot he took today, can you believe that?” Magnus added excitedly. “That’s fucking  _ great _ news for us!” 

Isak snorted at Magnus’s eager enthusiasm, but he had to admit Magnus did have a point. If Even continued to crack out shots like the few they’d seen him take today, they’d be blowing their competition out of the water. The guy had one hell of a foot on him. 

“Did you guys see the leg muscles on him, though? I mean, damn, can he give me his leg routine?” Mahdi commented with a laugh.

Magnus dropped his head back and made a sound. “Fuck, Mahdi. I can’t wait until Coach Anders starts up weight-training days again. Can you imagine: Even doing leg presses? Even lifting twice as much as he weighs? Even doing  _ squats _ .” Magnus fanned his hand in front of his face and dramatically blew a bit of hair from his forehead. “Isak—  _ damn _ , you’re going to be so distracted, hah!” 

Isak just rolled his eyes and flipped Magnus the bird. “Fuck off,” he scoffed, shaking his head at him. He turned away from his friends as they hooted out their laughter to hide the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks.

Distracted? Isak? By Even? Hah. Isak was almost positive that that wouldn’t be a problem. He liked to think he could keep his chill. So what? Maybe Even had really nice calves, and a lean torso, and beautiful blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline— 

But Isak could be chill. He was the chillest. He was a mature, reasonable adult that was perfectly capable of controlling his emotions. Not even Even could ruin that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been nearly a month since Even had joined the team, but he still seemed to be some kind of novelty to all of their teammates.
> 
> Isak hadn’t disliked Even in the beginning. However, as time went on and Rosenborg’s first game of the season quickly approached, Isak’s patience began to run thin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallaaaaa! Chapter 2 has arrived woo! 
> 
> I mention the term Maradona in this chapter, and since it's a soccer term and not everyone is familiar with them I figured I'd explain a bit. A Maradona is an attacking soccer move used to escape a tackle from a defender. It's named after Argentine soccer player Diego Maradona. You can watch a video to see how it's done [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLs56dOMyY8).
> 
>  
> 
> Now, I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Isak slammed his locker shut with a little more force than necessary, the irritation written clearly over his face in the way the corners of his lips were pulled down in a deep frown and how his nose was crinkled up in disdain— the lines of his forehead creased from exasperation.

Fuck being a mature, responsible adult that was perfectly capable of controlling his emotions. And fuck Magnus for thinking Isak would get distracted by Even’s dashing good looks. If anything, Isak was distracted by Even’s ability to wrap everyone around his little finger within seconds.

It had been nearly a month since Even had joined the team, but he still seemed to be some kind of novelty to all of their teammates.

Isak hadn’t disliked Even in the beginning. In fact, he saw that Even clearly had skill and talent— the guy had been endlessly nice to everyone, always complimenting their goals and giving out high fives and pats on the back. He even offered to help people stretch their muscles out if they needed it, he knew how to wrap a twisted ankle like a pro, and he even stayed back after practice to help Coach Anders gather the equipment. (It also helped that he always had a witty comment ready to shut Chris and William down whenever they decided to be pricks— though that was beginning to irritate Isak because nobody really laughed at  _ his _ comments anymore.)

However, as time went on and Rosenborg’s first game of the season quickly approached, Isak’s patience began to run thin. He grew more and more irritated with Even and his stupid charm.

Everyone seemed so fixated on the fact that Even would be their teams’ savior— that he was some sort of gift sent from the football gods themselves to help the team when they didn’t even need it in the first place. Rosenborg had been on a pretty solid winning streak— they’d taken the title of Eliteserien League Champions for the past three years in a row and had come very close to it in the preceding few years. Not to mention they’d won Cupen in 2015 and 2016, thus making them the current defending champions of the Norwegian Football Cup. Needless to say, they were far from a bad team, and they’d been playing incredibly well as of late, so it’s not as though Even was some big blessing— some huge miracle that they’d been desperately hoping and wishing for. He was just another rookie player that Coach had added to the lineup because he thought they could use some fresh meat. 

Isak really didn’t understand everyone’s obsession with Even. And it was starting to really get under his skin. 

Like earlier today, for example. They’d spent the last thirty minutes of practice engaged in a mini scrimmage— one half of the team versus the other. Isak and Even had ended up on the same team as the two strikers up top. Jonas and Chris were on their team as well— playing the right and left midfielders respectively— and while Isak could rely on Jonas to make passes to him, Chris was an entirely different story. Despite the fact that Even hadn’t taken to him very well, he was still just as obsessed with Even as the rest of the team was. So of course that meant that every single time Chris got the ball he connected with Even— even if Isak was wide open and Even was covered— which left Isak biting back annoyed huffs and sprinting his ass off to catch up and find the open space he needed to be in. 

During one play in particular, Chris passed the ball to Even, who, of course, was flanked by a defender. And Even, ever the little show off he was, received the ball with the toe studs of his foot, dragged the ball back a few inches, then completed almost a full 360 degree turn— the perfect Maradona that got him around Mahdi and earned him an impressed whistle and a few cheers from his teammates. 

Isak had to suppress an eye roll, but he took off running straight towards the open gap he spotted in the very center of the eighteen yard box. He called Even’s name as he ran and lifted a hand into the air to draw Even’s attention towards him. It worked, and Even’s head whipped in his direction— his eyes landing on Isak before flitting back towards the goal, as if he were gauging whether or not Isak had the shot. In the end, he must have decided that he did, and he crossed the ball— a high beautiful arc through the air— towards Isak, who received it cleanly and immediately began setting up his shot. He quickly glanced up at the goal before his foot connected with the ball, sending it flying into the upper left corner of the net, just past Magnus’s reaching fingers.

A dignified cry left Isak’s lips as he punched the air with his fist, ecstatic that he made the shot. And, he didn’t want to brag or anything but, it had been one hell of a shot. Beautiful— arcing, with just enough power behind it to send it exactly where he had wanted it to go. He expected his teammates to come crashing into him, cheering for him and jumping on his back with excitement for his goal as they usually did, even in practice, but when he turned to face the field there was a loud whoop and he saw everyone crowding around Even, high fiving him and complimenting _his_ _assist_ to the goal. Isak gritted his teeth together and had to bite down on his lip so as to not let out a grunt of frustration.

And god, this was getting ridiculous. Isak liked receiving validation as much as the next guy, but at this point it wasn’t even about the fact that no one complimented his goal that bothered him the most. It was the fact that everyone always went flocking to Even with absolutely nothing but praises falling from their lips no matter what he’d just done. It was always:

_ Oh, Even! That goal was amazing! _

_ Wow, Even, what a fantastic pass! _

_ You whiffed the ball? It’s okay, you got great air when you fell! _

_ Even, great job taking your cleats off! How do you do it so well? _

_ You’re so good at breathing, Even! _

Like the other day— at practice Even went to take a shot but kicked and accidentally missed the ball completely. He’d nearly fallen on his ass, and Isak had almost laughed out loud at it. (He probably could’ve gotten away with laughing, and nobody would have even noticed because they were all too preoccupied with Even.) All of his teammates, though, had just laughed it off and told Even not to worry about it. 

But when Isak tried to do a move to get past Mahdi and messed up, resulting in Mahdi stealing the ball from him and passing it up the line to the midfielder on his team, the guys just shook their heads at Isak and scoffed at his failed attempt. No  _ better luck next time. _ No  _ nice try. _ Just a  _ what the fuck was that, Valtersen _ ? from William and a shoulder check from Chris when he walked past him later on. 

Even Jonas had thrown him a wonky look, and Magnus had called an  _ Isak, come on bro, step it up! _ from his perch in the goal.

Despite his disdain towards Even, the two of them worked pretty well together— if he was being honest, they were actually a bit of a dream team on the field. They always seemed to be able to read each other well and establish where they needed to be for optimal assistance, and they played off of each other quite well, too. Their athletic chemistry was undeniable, really, and Coach Anders had certainly taken notice of that. He often put them up top together so they could work their magic and pass around the defenders to score.

And at first, Isak always made sure to be perfectly civil to Even on the field— after all, he didn’t need a reputation as the guy who fucked over his team because he couldn’t get along with one player. Off the field, however, was a completely different story. His answers to Even’s questions became short and curt. He never returned Even’s chipper  _ hellos _ in the morning, and he refused to ever indulge in Even’s offer to start passing together before practice began. Isak didn’t even hold the door to the locker room open for Even— instead held it for Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi and then let it shut.

Even surely must have picked up on Isak’s obvious distaste for him, and at first he didn’t really do anything about it. He continued to be the polite, sweet, gentlemanly kind of guy he was. He still went to Isak with his questions, convinced that Isak had all the best (and right) answers, and he still said hello— just as brightly— with a smile on his face; he still asked Isak if he wanted to pass every single morning despite the fact that Isak had started blatantly ignoring the question, and he still held the door open for Isak when he got to it first— never making any comments about how Isak didn’t do the same. 

As time passed, though, and Isak’s frustrations about Even grew— resulting in snappier responses, outright avoidance, and a much much shorter fuse— it became clear that Even’s patience was starting to run thin, too.

The first time it happened was right before their first game with Even on the team. It was against Lillestrøm, one of the lower ranked teams, so it wasn’t going to be that challenging of a game. But it  _ was _ Even’s debut match, and he was clearly nervous— he’d been awfully quiet in the locker room when changing, and now he was sitting on the bench seemingly lost in thought as he jiggled his leg up and down.

It hadn’t exactly been bothering Isak until his leg was moving so fast that it started shaking the whole bench. And to top it off, Even brought his hands up in front of his chest and started cracking the knuckles of each finger, a loud popping noise emitting from each crack. 

By the time Even made it to the fourth knuckle, Isak’s skin was crawling and he had had enough. Without even thinking, he shot his hand out and clamped it over Even’s— effectively stilling his motions before he could get to the fifth knuckle. “Fucking cut that out, would you?” Isak snapped, narrowing his eyes at Even, a scowl curling at his lips. “And quit bouncing your fucking leg, too, you’re shaking the entire fucking bench.”

Even blinked back at Isak, and he almost looked surprised at Isak’s outburst. But the shock quickly melted off of his face as his eyes fell to where Isak’s hand still covered his own— his fingers slotting in between Even’s perfectly so that all he had to do was curl them and they’d be holding hands. Backwards, of course, but still holding hands nonetheless. 

Isak’s eyes followed Even’s gaze, and he felt himself stiffen at the sight of their hands together. He couldn’t help but appreciate how nice they looked, even if their hands weren’t really clasped, just one on top of the other. Seeing that tiny, almost insignificant kind of contact had something jumping in Isak’s stomach, making his heartbeat kick up a notch. He tore his eyes away from their grasp, and his hand followed not long after. He could feel his skin tingling where Even’s hand had been touching his. 

“Just fucking stop, okay?” Isak repeated, his voice coming out a little bit weaker than before.

Except when he finally lifted his eyes back up to Even’s, he found them staring right back into his— a mischievous glint sparkling there. A smirk slowly unfurled across Even’s lips, and he slowly raised his hands up again. Isak had to suppress a groan as he realized what Even was about to do.

One by one, Even proceeded to finish cracking every knuckle on his other hand, all while staring Isak right in the eyes— almost as if challenging him, daring him to do something about it. It seemed as though the popping noise was even louder this time, and Isak clenched his jaw tight, his teeth grinding together. 

Before Even could finish, though, Isak abruptly stood up from the bench. Instead of immediately relocating himself further away from Even like he planned to, Isak took a second to send him a nasty glare. “I hope you fucking trip,” he spat, shaking his head as he stalked off.

(Of fucking course, Even didn’t trip once. Isak did.)

 

In addition to cracking his knuckles  _ all the fucking time  _ now, Even started to dump his bag in the exact same spot that Isak liked to throw his.

Every single practice Isak always put his bag right at the end of the bench, a few inches away so he could easily sit at the very edge to remove his cleats and deposit them into his waiting bag below. He’d put his things here on the very first day of practice when he first started on this team, and it had become a habit over the years. Nobody had ever questioned it, and no one had ever interfered with the flow of things.

And Isak knew he was acting pretty childish, getting upset over something as small and trivial as  _ where he put his bag _ , but it was the fact that Even  _ knew _ that it was Isak’s favorite spot, and the fact that he consistently started taking it from him that irked Isak the most. 

He decided to bring it up to Jonas one day in the locker room while Even was still in the shower and wouldn’t overhear the conversation— not that it really mattered if he did, Isak didn’t give a shit if Even heard him talking shit. Maybe he’d get the fucking hint. 

“Isn’t it fucking annoying how Even keeps leaving his shit in our spot?” Isak asked as he tugged his shirt over his head, trying to sound casual about it.

Jonas shrugged his shoulders, a nonchalant expression on his face. “Nah,” he answered. “I don’t really care. I mean, put your shit wherever as long as it’s not on the field, right?”

Isak felt a pulse of annoyance jolt through him at Jonas’s response. “I mean, I’m just saying he’s been leaving his bag by Julian’s, but all of the sudden he decides to move it? It’s just kind of irritating.”

“What’s kind of irritating?” Mahdi queried, running his towel over his head as he joined Jonas and Isak and approached his locker. 

“Isak thinks Even is stealing the spot he puts his bag before practice,” Jonas explained, his tone coming out teasing and ridiculing. 

Mahdi barked out a laugh. “Is this kindergarten?” He joked. “Because I’ve never seen someone so possessive about ‘their spot’ unless they were five years old and shoving crayons up their nose.”

“Oh, piss off,” Isak snapped, rolling his eyes at Mahdi. “You’d be fed up too if you had someone out to get you, too,” he defended.

Jonas snorted while lifting his arm to swipe on some deodorant. “Isak, he took your spot— that doesn't mean he's out to get you. You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?” 

“Yeah, Isak, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Mahdi added. “Just find a new place to put your bag. Problem solved,” he suggested. 

Biting down on his lip, Isak let out a long sigh through his nose. “I’m not being dramatic,” he huffed. “I’m telling you, he’s fucking doing it on purpose. I swear it! He’s trying to aggravate me enough to throw me off of my game. How can you not see it? He won’t stop cracking his fucking knuckles around me, he shakes the entire bench every single time he’s on it because he can’t fucking sit still, he trips over his fucking giraffe legs all the time in practice, but you all just compliment how graceful it is, he moves my fucking bag like he thinks he owns it, and he won’t stop fucking drenching himself in water every time he steps off of the field. I mean, come on, it’s not even that hot out, there’s literally no point in him doing that. Not to mention he just looks like a fucking drowned puppy. It’s ridiculous! He and his dumb saggy quiff and that fucking ridiculous headband are out to get me. He’s the most obnoxious little shit, and he gets on my nerves so damn much. Even Bech Næsheim is the most annoying being on this Earth, I just want him to faceplant into my cleat!” 

When Isak finally stopped his mini rant to take a breath, he noticed that Jonas and Mahdi weren’t looking at him anymore, but past him. Almost immediately, Isak knew that they had to be looking at Even. There was no other explanation for the way their eyes had widened or how Mahdi’s jaw had dropped a bit. 

Slowly, Isak turned around and, just as he’d suspected, was met with the sight of Even right there behind him. He was standing there, dripping wet from his shower with just a towel tucked loosely around his waist. Isak couldn't help the way his eyes stuck to the broad expanse of Even’s chest, to the smooth skin that was glistening with water. His eyes finally flickered up to Even’s face, and he found his pillowy pink lips curled into a smirk, almost as though Even knew the exact train of thought that was passing through Isak’s brain. Isak swallowed anxiously. 

“Like what you see?” Even teased, quietly enough that only Isak could hear. Isak watched as that impish smirk suddenly melted into an overly sugary sweet smile.  _ Oh god, what is he going to do? _

Even didn’t say another word to Isak— instead walked right past him— making sure to smack his shoulder into Isak’s. Hard. After the collision, he spun on his heel so he was walking backwards towards his locker. That way he could keep his eyes locked with Isak’s, and when he finally broke eye contact— but only for a brief second— he looked down to see where Isak’s bag was sitting on the bench in front of his locker. Isak watched as Even picked his bag up by the long strap and dropped it onto the floor on the other side of the bench, further away from Isak’s locker. Then, he lifted his own bag from where it was already perched on the bench and placed it in the space he’d just cleared. Throughout the entire exchange Even’s eyes hadn’t left Isak’s, and that stupid fucking smile hadn’t left his face.

Isak’s jaw dropped open and he immediately turned towards his friends— his eyebrows raised high— the look on his face clearly conveying the  _ see, I told you so _ Isak desperately wanted to say.

Jonas just shrugged at him and went back to shuffling through the contents of his locker for his change of clothes. Isak shifted his gaze to Mahdi, who just chuckled to himself and shook his head at Isak. 

A defeated huff slipped past Isak’s lips and he turned back towards Even, ready to send him a noxious glare, except he nearly choked on his own breath when his eyes were met with Even’s bare ass right there in front of him. Clearly he wasn’t expecting Isak to look at him again— or he was banking on it and this was a trick, the sneaky bastard. Isak’s jaw clenched and he quickly tore his eyes away from Even’s ass.

With red cheeks, Isak practically buried his head in his locker to keep from looking. The sound of another one slamming made him jerk, and he saw Even swiftly making his way towards the locker room door, fully dressed with his bag over his shoulder.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, Isak let out a loud groan and grabbed his bag from where Even had unceremoniously dumped it earlier.

“You kind of deserved that,” Jonas pointed out, patting Isak on the back before he shouldered his own bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to freak out over Even even more.” 

 

Then there was the time that the boys skipped out on movie night to hang out with Even— without Isak.

Isak was in the middle of stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into his mouth, his eyes following Ben Stiller across the screen as he fought with a monkey over a pair of museum keys, when the front door to his apartment flew open and the raucous sounds of Magnus cracking up filled his ears. He cringed almost immediately and reached for the remote so he could pause the movie and turn to face Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi as they stumbled through the door.

When their eyes landed on Isak, seated on the couch with the movie on screen behind him, its DVD case discarded on the coffee table, and a giant bowl of popcorn in hand, their faces all twisted up into guilty expressions. 

“Where were you guys?” Isak asked. He felt a bit like a mother hen with the question, like he was being that overprotective parent that had to know the whereabouts of their kid at every waking moment. But, he didn’t exactly feel bad about it. Not when it was their weekly Friday evening movie night and not a single one of the boys had shown up, or bothered to let Isak know that they weren’t showing up.

Magnus glanced between Jonas and Mahdi, a panic stricken expression taking over his face before he turned back towards Isak, trying to school his features and act neutral. “Out,” he answered simply, his eyes not meeting Isak’s. 

“We were hanging with Even,” Jonas butt in, rolling his eyes at Magnus. He pushed past the other boy so he could make his way over to the couch and plop himself next to Isak where he tried to reach over and take his own handful of popcorn. Isak jerked the bowl away before his hand got too close.

“With Even?” Isak repeated, his face twisting up a bit as he said Even’s name.

Jonas just rolled his eyes at Isak this time. “Yes, with Even.”

“How come you didn’t invite me?” Isak questioned, trying not to let the bitterness leak into his voice.

Mahdi scoffed.

“Isak,” Jonas said, his tone flat as he shot his best friend an insipid look.

“You hate him. Why would we invite you?” Mahdi asked, shrugging his shoulders as if to say  _ what other choice did we have _ ?

“Well, I am your friend, aren’t I?” Isak retorted. “I would think being your best friend would mean I’d be invited when you do things.” 

“You would’ve said no anyways since Even was there,” Magnus pointed out.

This time it was Isak who did the shrugging. “Okay, yeah, maybe, but isn’t that my decision to make?” Isak wondered. “Just because I don’t like Even doesn’t mean I don’t want to hang out with you guys— which, by the way, you all bailed on that.”

The boys all sat in silence for a second before they made the connection, and Jonas let out a slow “shit.”

“Yeah,” Isak agreed. “You bailed on movie night— to hang out with fucking Even— and didn’t bother to let me know, so that was pretty shitty.”

“Isak, I totally forgot it was Friday. For some reason I thought it was Saturday. You know I wouldn’t have skipped out on movie night,” Jonas said, trying his best to make Isak feel better.

Except it really wasn’t helping. Isak really didn’t want to hear about how he’d been spending time with Even instead, how he’d been laughing at Even’s jokes, how he’d been bonding with Even over whatever they’d bonded over. He waved his hand through the air to cut Jonas off from saying anything more— he didn’t need to hear it. “It’s whatever. Just, y’know, next time you want to hang out with Even just say it to my face instead of sneaking behind my back to see him, yeah? I’m not your mother, I don’t control who you can and can’t spend time with.”

“What’s your problem with him? Even is cool, Isak,” Mahdi chimed in. 

Isak scoffed. “That’s exactly why I don’t like him,” he responded, shaking his head.

“Because he’s cool?” Magnus repeated, his voice lilting up questioningly. 

“No, because he’s got all of you wrapped around his stupid fucking finger,” Isak snapped back, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. 

“He doesn’t have us wrapped around his finger, Isak,” Jonas said, attempting to sound sincere.

“Jonas, come on. When Coach made you and Magnus captains and had you pick teams you picked Even before you even considered picking me— and you two fought over him too!” Isak supplied, shaking his head. 

Jonas had the decency to look at least a little bit sheepish about it. “I was planning on picking you next,” he tried to explain. “You and Even work well together and I wanted you both on my team. I knew Mags was going to try to snatch Even though so I needed to get him first.”

“And what if he snatched me?” Isak questioned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, right— he wasn’t going to anyways because he just wanted Even on his team. Sorry, I forgot. Oh, just how you ‘forgot’ about our movie night.” 

Isak knew he was being far too bitter about this. He knew he was overreacting, knew that Jonas and Magnus and Mahdi didn’t like him any less just because they were infatuated with shiny, new Even. But that’s just how Isak was. He was so used to people leaving him that every time the signs started pointing to that happening again his defences went up and he closed himself off. 

Jonas opened his mouth to protest, but Isak didn’t bother giving him the time of day. Instead he set his bowl of popcorn on the table, placed the remote next to it, and lifted himself from the couch so he could stalk off down the hall and into his room. He slammed the door unnecessarily hard behind him. 

Isak would get over it; he and the boys all knew that. In fact, he’d probably start pretending like it didn’t even happen by tomorrow. He just needed to wallow for a while, and then he would move on and go back to pretending like he wasn’t affected by any of this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, Isak,” Magnus said eventually, breaking the silence with a sigh first. “I get that you don’t like Even, but please don’t let that fuck up this game. This is the quarterfinals. We’ve made it to the quarterfinals of Cupen and we’re so fucking close to the championship game. We’re so fucking close to winning this whole thing. I love you, bro, but if you fuck this up because you can’t get along with Even... I’m not going to forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hii everyone! Happy Thursday! The week is almost over, we can all make it through!! 
> 
> Here's chapter 3, things are starting to reach the boiling point if ya know what I mean ;)) 
> 
> Enjoy!

The entirety of March had passed by in the blink of an eye, and April and May had come and gone just as fast. Before Isak knew it, they’d already played nearly half of their league games and were currently reigning as undefeated— thanks to him and Even, who consistently scored goal after goal for the team. Mainly because they both seemed to have some sort of grudge against each other and a pissing contest between them that made them try to out compete each other by scoring more goals (not that the team minded though, since their little fued was keeping them in first place.) And Magnus, who continued to kick ass in the goal and always outperformed himself each match while consistently having shutout game after shutout game— this boy was well on his way to winning an award for having more saves and shutouts than anyone.

With the way the team had been gelling so well and playing so fantastically together, it was no surprise either that they’d been excelling in the Norwegian Football Cup. They’d made it through both the first and second qualifying rounds of Cupen— which, of course, they’d expected— and had been breezing their way through the knockout rounds.

They’d gone from being just one team out of a group of sixty-four to being one team out of a group of only four. 

Much like the beginning of the season, the end of June and thus the impending quarterfinal game were fast approaching. The entire team was jittery with anticipation, and every single practice they’d had focused on perfecting the little things: making sure their passes were solid. Fixing their aim on goal. Figuring out the exact amount of power they needed behind every shot.

Despite the fact that the team was playing so well, Isak and Even still weren't getting along off the field  _ at all _ . Even had long since stopped playing Mr. Nice Guy with Isak, and he was dishing out just as well as he was taking it. If Isak didn't hate him as much as he did, he would be pretty impressed. (It didn't help either that Isak constantly found his brain being attacked by thoughts of how attractive Even looked in those shorts or how  _ good _ his hair looked or how hot he was with flushed cheeks and parted lips after a particularly intense workout. And god, he was supposed to hate this guy— he really needed to start thinking with the head on his shoulders, not the one between his legs.) 

 

On the day of the big quarterfinal game, Isak blinked his groggy eyes open and rolled onto his other side so he could grope across his bedside table until his fingers connected with his phone. He tugged it off of the charger and lifted it up to his eyes before he hit the home button. The screen lit up— far too brightly for Isak’s bleary eyes— and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before blinking them back open and squinting at the screen. He looked at the clock displayed right in the center only to find that it was eight twenty-five in the morning. Five minutes before his alarm. Isak let out a groan and dropped his arm across his eyes as he let his head flop back against his pillow. 

After lying there for another minute, Isak decided that he might as well get up now and start making his pre-game breakfast a few minutes early. Maybe he’d have time to squeeze himself a glass of fresh orange juice with the juicer Magnus had insisted they own yet never used. 

With a resigned sigh, Isak sat himself up and pushed his duvet to the side, dropping his feet to the floor so he could drag himself out of bed. He grabbed the random shirt lying across the chair by his desk, pulled it over his head and ambled out of his bedroom— ruffling up his hair as he moved.

Isak stopped off in the bathroom to relieve himself before he continued on his path to the kitchen, and when he got there, he found Magnus already up and at em’ puttering around the stove and rifling through the cupboards looking wide awake— almost as though he’d been up for hours now. He was standing behind the stove pushing a spatula through the egg yolk in the pan, and another skillet sat atop the other burner with a few strips of bacon sizzling away. 

“Halla,” Isak greeted, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

“Good morning, Isak,” Magnus replied, his voice far too loud and much too cheery for this early in the morning. “I’m making us game day breakfast!” He exclaimed, excitement dripping from his voice. “I’ve got eggs and bacon started, but we need to load up on carbs still so I was thinking you could make some oatmeal? Oh and toast, definitely toast. Do we have croissants? Or maybe donuts— no nevermind not donuts, too much sugar before a big game.”

“Magnus,” Isak cut in, pouring himself a little extra coffee just make it through this morning alone. “We don’t need all of that. Eggs and bacon is plenty,” he insisted.

Magnus scoffed and stuck a hand on his hip, waving the spatula around with the other. Isak flinched as a piece of egg dropped off of it and hit the floor. “Isak, we need carbs! Carbs are energy! Even says he always eats two bowls of oatmeal and a piece of toast before he plays.”

Isak rolled his eyes and brought his mug to the table. “Mags,” he started, plopping himself down in one of the chairs. “We’ve been eating the same eggs and bacon before our games for years now. Eating oatmeal and toast isn’t going to change anything.”

“Isak, could you just let go of your stupid grudge for like five seconds and make some damn oatmeal?” Magnus griped, turning back towards the stove so he could check on the eggs.

Isak nearly choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken, his eyes practically bugging out of his head at the abrasive tone of voice Magnus had just taken with him. They’d been friends for years, and while they’d gotten frustrated and angry with each other countless times before, they’d never been as harsh with each other as Magnus just was. 

Rather than argue back— Isak really didn’t want to get yelled at again and frankly, it was too damn early for this— he set his mug down and moved towards the cupboards so he could rummage through the boxes until he found the one for oatmeal.

When all of the food was finally finished cooking, Magnus loaded up his own plate with slightly too large piles and sat down to eat, not waiting for Isak like he usually did. 

Isak filled his own plate with much more reasonable portions and joined Magnus at the table. The whole affair was relatively silent, aside from the sounds of forks scraping against ceramic and the chewing that followed. Isak had never felt more awkward in his own home.

“Look, Isak,” Magnus said eventually, breaking the silence with a sigh first. “I get that you don’t like Even, but please don’t let that fuck up this game. This is the quarterfinals. We’ve made it to the  _ quarterfinals of Cupen _ and we’re so fucking close to the championship game. We’re so fucking close to winning this whole thing. I love you, bro, but if you fuck this up because you can’t get along with Even... I’m not going to forgive you.”

Isak’s lips pulled down into a slight frown. “Magnus, you know that’s not going to happen, right?” he asked. “You know I’m not going to let that fuck with how I play. I’m not like that— I don’t let my ‘grudges’ affect how I play. That shit stays off the field.” Isak pushed his eggs around on his plate for a moment before he set his fork down completely. “If you should be advising anyone not to let it fuck with how they play, it’s Even. Not me.”

Magnus didn’t even try to hide his eye roll, but the hostility there before was now mostly gone. “Are you finished eating?” He asked, ignoring Isak’s jab. 

When Isak nodded and pushed his plate away from him, Magnus picked it up along with his own and brought them both over to the sink where he started to clean them off hastily, scrubbing too hard at the ceramic.

 

The locker room was much quieter than it usually was before a game. There was a thick sort of tension that settled over the whole room as everyone changed from their warm ups to their uniforms. Normally Isak would’ve chalked it up to pre-match jitters— this was the  _ quarterfinals _ after all, and if they fucked this up they’d be out of the competition. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone kept looking over at  _ him _ for some reason. His suspicions were only confirmed when out of the corner of his eye he caught Julian’s gaze flitting towards him before moving to settle on Even’s back. Isak clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes as his earlier conversation with Magnus echoed through his head.  _ If you fuck this up because you can’t get along with Even I’m not going to forgive you. _

Isak finished pulling his white jersey over his head, slamming his locker shut with more force than necessary before sitting on the edge of the bench and pulling his socks on and securing his shin guards into place. 

“Are you ready to absolutely smash it today?” Jonas’s voice rang out, and Isak glanced up from the cleat laces he was tightening to see his best friend standing above him, his own cleats in hand. Jonas plopped down onto the bench next to Isak and slapped a hand against his shoulder before starting to put his own shoes on. 

Isak huffed out a short laugh but gave Jonas a single nod anyways. “I guess so, yeah,” he responded. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” 

Jonas quirked an eyebrow. “You guess so?” He repeated questioningly. “Where’s the confidence, man?”

“I’m confident,” Isak defended.  “I am!” he insisted, giving Jonas a shove when he saw the quizzical look Jonas sent him. “It’s not me you should be worried about, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Isak pressed his lips together and tilted his head, fixing Jonas with a  _ don’t give me that bullshit _ kind of look. “Oh, come on. I know you’re probably thinking it too,” he chastised. Isak just rolled his eyes when the confusion didn’t disappear from Jonas’s face. “That me and Even are going to fuck this game up because we can’t get along.” 

“Isak,” Jonas started. “I don’t think that. You and Even are both great players, and even if you don’t like each other you two don’t bring that shit with you onto the field. Even’s been playing with us for four months now and I’ve never seen you two fighting during a game. We’re undefeated in the league and in this tournament, so look me in the eyes and tell me you two can’t keep it off the field.”

And, well, Jonas kind of had a point. He and Even had done a good job of keeping their drama off of the pitch. They could shit on each other and avoid one another all they wanted to before or after a match, but from the second it started to the second the final whistle blew, they left all of that behind. Isak would never forgive himself if he let their feud affect how he played. 

“Okay,” Isak agreed, running his hands through his hair before he leaned forward and dropped his elbows to his knees. “You’re right.” 

A handful of lockers suddenly banged shut, and Coach Anders’s voice rang out. “So quarterfinal game, boys,” he announced, stepping into the circle the team had already started to form around him. “Great moments are born from great opportunities, and that, my boys, is exactly what we have here in front of us— a great opportunity. We’ve played Tromsø before; we’ve  _ beat _ Tromsø before, and I believe that we can beat them again. The championship game is right around the corner, you just have to get through the next two games and you’re there. Nothing is impossible— if you feel yourself getting tired, if you get to that point where anyone else would quit— you’re not going to stop there. You're going to push through it, and you're going to work hard at it to get that win. You boys have to put your all into preparing for this game. Blood. Sweat. Tears. We’re going to walk away from this match ready to work even harder to win the semifinals.” 

Coach Anders gave a firm nod and cast a glance around at his squad of players. “Now let's go out there and kick some ass!”

A loud cheer rang from the team, their worry about Isak and Even keeping their shit together seemingly quenched for now with motivation and pep coursing through their veins. 

Magnus slung his arms around Isak and Jonas’s necks as they stood from the bench and he reached up to ruffle their hair. “Lets fucking do this!” he exclaimed excitedly. 

Isak sent him a confident grin and smacked his own hand against Magnus’s back. “You better not let anything past you, Mags. Remember— this isn't a bar and the ball isn't a girl, you can’t let her get away like you always do.”

An indignant squawk fell from Magnus’s lips, and he rolled his eyes at Isak. “Low blow, buddy. I could say the same for you, though— this isn't a bar and the goal can't be the hot guys you keep missing out on. Sink the ball in the hole and score some fucking goals,” Magnus shot back, and Jonas let out a long  _ ooooooh _ and high-fived Magnus.

“Oh, fuck off. You bet your ass I’m gonna score. I'm the master of putting balls in holes,” Isak responded, sending him a cheeky wink. 

Magnus barked out a laugh and shook his head at Isak. “Let’s see it, Valtersen. Make it happen.” 

 

When they arrived in the mouth of the tunnel, the Tromsø team was already there, lined up and waiting for the walk on. 

Isak’s eyes fell on the football waiting on top of the podium, and he glanced past it to the field. He could hear the fans cheering louder and louder the closer it got to game time, and from what he could see the stands of  Lerkendal Stadion looked packed. That familiar excitement stirred in his belly, and he felt the butterflies kick up and start fluttering up a storm.

The Rosenborg boys quickly took their places, making sure they were in the correct order for the walk on. Of course Isak wound up standing right next to Even. Magnus’s words were still floating around his head, and he knew if he didn't say something to Even they’d sit there nagging at him the entire game. Except right as Isak turned towards Even to wish him a good game, Even opened his mouth. “Stay the fuck out of my way, Valtersen, and try not to be as useless as you usually are, could you?” 

To say the least, Isak had absolutely not been expecting that sort of comment from Even— not this close to the start of a game— and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, hot anger suddenly coursing through his veins. Any and all tolerance he’d been showing Even was gone now, and Isak ground his teeth together to keep from snapping back with an equally harsh comment.

Thankfully, in the next second the referees were signalling for the teams to start moving, thus beginning the walk on and ultimately, the start of the quarterfinal match.

 

“Even!” Isak called, throwing his hand into the air as he sprinted past another defender. He still had one on him, but he knew that if Even were to pass to him all he had to do was make a simple cut around him and he’d have free rage of the goal. “Even! I’m open!” He shouted, his frustration growing with every second longer Even held onto the ball. 

Isak had slowed his sprint to a jog now, hovering around in the middle of the eighteen yard box. Even was still dribbling down the sideline, one defender already on him, and Isak could see another closing in. He knew that Even only had a short amount of time left before any chance to pass was lost, and Isak screamed his name as loud as he could. “Pass the damn ball!”

Even’s head lifted and his eyes met Isak’s. For the briefest of moments, Isak thought Even was going to  _ finally _ pass to him. But rather than do that, he tried to dribble forward. He got about two paces before the Tromsø defender stole the ball and immediately booted it up to their midfielder who took off towards Rosenborg’s goal. 

“God dammit,” Isak cursed under his breath while changing his direction, running back towards midfield. He spotted Even a few feet away and made his way towards him.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Isak snapped the second he was in earshot of Even. “You can't keep the fucking ball that long. I was wide open in the middle— _you_ _fucking saw me_ — why the hell didn't you pass it?” 

Even didn't answer Isak, just kept running back towards his position so he could be there in case Chris or Jonas got the ball back and needed to pass it up. 

A flash of anger flared up in Isak, and he reached out to grab at Even’s arm to get him to stop running. “Even, I'm fucking talking to you!” Isak hissed. “Why the fuck didn't you pass to me?” His fingers closed around Even’s upper arm, and almost instantly Even tore his arm from Isak’s grip. 

“Don't touch me,” Even spat back.

“Fucking answer me then!” Isak growled. 

“I said stay the  _ fuck _ out of my way, Isak,” Even retorted. But before Isak could even think of a response, Even was sprinting in the opposite direction of him, calling out Chris’s name to get him to pass. 

 

By the time the referee blew the whistle signalling the end of the first half, Isak was beyond pissed. The game was tied nil nil, and the only reason they were still even in it at all was because of Magnus’s exceptional keeper skills. He’d saved their asses more times than Isak could count in this game, and it only frustrated Isak more that Even was sabotaging the game because he couldn't check his drama at the gate. As Isak stormed off of the field, he aggressively shoved past Even so he could get to his water.

“What the hell was that, Isak?” Magnus snapped as he strode right up to Isak’s side. “Do you not remember what I said earlier? What happened to ‘that shit stays off the field,’ huh?” 

Isak squeezed his water bottle above his head, catching the water in his mouth and swallowing it down before he finally faced Magnus — who was glaring at him expectantly. “Magnus, you can't seriously be blaming me for this!” Isak exclaimed. “This isn't my fault! He hasn't passed to me a single time the entire game! So I'm sorry if I'm not passing back to him. I deserve to have the ball too!”

He knew that Magnus had every right to be upset— there was no mistaking the fact that Isak and Even hated each other in this game. What normally would have been a game they’d have scored at least once or twice in already was turning out to be a shitshow disaster. So yeah, Magnus could be mad— hell, Isak was mad, too— but he had no right to be blaming this all on Isak. He may not be innocent, but he sure as hell wasn't the only one fucking things up for them. 

“Boys,” Coach Anders barked, capturing the whole team’s attention. “The game is not over. You still have another forty-five minutes to go out there and put the ball into that net. The score is zero zero— you need to get angry. Get mad about this. If you're not pissed off for greatness then that means you're okay with being mediocre.” Coach Anders smacked his hand onto his clipboard and cast a glance around the circle. “You boys need to ask yourselves: how bad do you want this? How hard are you willing to work for it? Because right now from what I've seen out there not a single one of you wants this. This is the quarterfinals of Cupen! This is the fucking Norwegian Football Cup. You can't go out there and play like a bunch of seven year olds. Get your shit together, all of you. Go back out there, kick some ass, and for God's sake get us a fucking goal so we don't have to go into overtime— or, god forbid, PK’s.”

 

Despite Coach Anders’s words, the quality of play throughout the second half didn't really pick up. The closer they got to the end of the match— or the end of the regulated play time— the more Isak resigned himself to the fact that they’d most likely be going into overtime. 

Every single time Even received the ball, no matter how much Isak screamed for him to pass, he continued to refuse. He tried to get past defender after defender only to have the ball stolen nine times out of ten, and even when he did manage to get past all of them, he always ended up shooting the ball too wide, straight over the top of the goal, or right into the keeper’s arms.

Isak was past the point of frustrated with Even— clearly Even didn’t care about the outcome of this game. So rather than call for Even to pass to him, Isak started calling for Chris or Jonas or whoever had the ball to pass to him before they could get it up to Even. There were two strikers god dammit, and Isak wasn’t about to be ignored because of not-so-golden boy Even Bech Næsheim.

“Jonas! Ball!” Isak shouted, sprinting down the sideline, throwing a glance over his shoulder every so often to see how Jonas was progressing. Jonas’s head lifted towards Isak as he called his name again, and he flicked his eyebrows up subtly— a signal that he was about to pass it up the line.  _ Finally _ . Isak picked up his pace and suddenly cut towards the center of the field right as Jonas sent the ball flying his direction. 

The ball rolled right to Isak’s feet and he trapped it smoothly, but right as he was about to turn towards the goal he heard Jonas’s voice. “Man on, Isak!” 

Instead of turning as he had planned to, Isak threw a glance over his shoulder to see the defender Jonas was warning him about. Almost immediately, he noticed that the defender wasn’t goal side, so getting around him would be easy. Right as Isak was about to spin around the defender and cut to the inside, he heard his name being called from somewhere in the middle of the field. 

“Isak!”

Isak nearly burst out laughing when he realized that it was Even calling for him. Did Even really think he was going to pass the ball to him? Especially after Even himself had avoided passing to Isak the entire game— had given up so many opportunities for a goal because he didn’t know how to play nice with Isak.

Ignoring Even, Isak used some fancy footwork to turn away from the defender and dribble around him. He was a few feet outside of the eighteen yard box, but there weren’t any other defenders in his way. A grin spread across his face and he picked up his pace, dribbling straight towards the goal. Isak crossed into the eighteen, and when he neared the six yard box, he looked up to eye the goal and calculate where the optimal place to aim was. He wound up to take the shot, but right as the top of his laces connected with the ball, one of the Tromsø defenders body checked him, throwing him off of the ball and to the ground. 

A loud boo went through the crowd and the sharp sound of the referee’s whistle filled Isak’s ears. He sat up from where he’d practically face planted onto the pitch and started brushing himself off. He knew his knee was bleeding a little where he’d scraped it against the turf, but Isak didn't care. He was glad that he had the scrape— glad the defender took him out. That player was yellow carded and Isak was awarded a penalty kick since it had happened in the eighteen yard box. 

Slowly, Isak rose to his feet. He sent the Tromsø defender a glare before he walked towards the penalty spot. The referee had already placed the football on the penalty spot, but Isak picked it up and repositioned it, lining his foot up next to it before taking a few steps back. 

He looked up from the ball and at the keeper. He was tall, but not overly so, and he looked thin and athletic— probably could dive well. The keeper was bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring directly at Isak with an intensity that was meant to intimidate him. It wasn't working, though. Isak pushed the keeper out of his mind and focused on the ball in front of him. 

This was his chance. This was his opportunity to score a goal and get Rosenborg back in this game. 

The referee made sure all of the other players were outside of the eighteen, and once he took his position, he blew the whistle signalling for Isak to go.

Isak sucked in a deep breath and focused himself. The crowd, his teammates, Coach Anders— they all disappeared until it was just him, the ball, and the goal. Isak started with a small stutter step before he took two long strides and connected his foot with the ball. 

At the last second, however, he changed the direction he was sending the ball, hoping to throw the keeper off. And it worked— he ended up diving to the right while the ball flew towards the left, except rather than fly right into the back of the now open net, it smacked solidly against the goal post. 

And before Isak could even react to the fact that he missed the shot, he was being jostled as both teams flooded the eighteen, fighting for the ball. It was cleared in an instant by a Tromsø player, and Tromsø kept possession. 

As Rosenborg’s players cleared the Tromsø eighteen, Chris slammed his shoulder into Isak’s on his way back to their half to help out. “How the hell did you fucking miss that?” He hissed. “Maybe if you weren't so fucking busy being pissed at Even, you would've made it. Stop ignoring him and use your fucking teammates.”

A jolt of anger surged through Isak, and he was suddenly even more furious than before. How fucking dare Chris snap at him for missing his penalty kick. It wasn't like he missed on purpose. He didn't see Chris scoring any goals either, so fuck him.

 

They didn't get another opportunity to score until what felt like literally the last minute of the game.

This time it was Even who had the ball on the eighteen yard box. Somehow he’d zigzagged through three defenders and was nearly to the goal when one of the Tromsø players caught him in another dirty tackle. 

Instantly, the ref was blowing his whistle and pointing at the penalty spot— whipping out his yellow card before recording the foul in his little notebook. 

There was a confident, determined look on Even’s face as he set up for his penalty shot. He spun the ball between his hands a few times then hovered it above the turf in a few different spots before finally picking one and carefully setting the ball down. He pushed the toe of his cleat into the turf in front of the ball and stepped back a good distance. His eyes were on the keeper, and this time it looked more as though Even were trying to get into the keeper’s head rather than the other way around. 

Finally the ref blew his whistle, and Even wasted no time before he was jogging up to the ball and sending it flying. The shot itself wasn't very impressive. The ball stayed on the ground and bulleted right towards the far corner, and it only just slid past the keeper’s glove — in fact, it caught the tips of his fingers, but that wasn't enough to stop the ball. It slipped into the back of the net and all of the Rosenborg boys were sprinting towards Even, screaming and cheering excitedly— jumping on his back and high giving him. The crowd around them went wild— explosions of applause and whooping cries mixed with the eccentric sounds of vuvuzelas. 

Then the referee blew hard into his whistle three times— long, short, long— and lifted both hands above his head before pointing them towards the center circle, signalling the end of the game.

Magnus sprinted from the goal— all the way to the other side of the field— and when he got there he slapped Isak on the back with a huge grin on his face. “We fucking did it! We won the quarterfinals, we're fucking moving on!” He shouted excitedly. He didn't give Isak time to react, though, because he was gone from his side, racing towards Even to congratulate him and fawn over his goal. 

While Isak was still insanely happy that they actually managed to pull a win (and that they didn't have to go into overtime or penalty kicks), he was having a hard time truly feeling the happiness— and it was all Even’s fault. Isak watched as Magnus and Chris awkwardly tried to lift Even up— he nearly fell, which made Isak snort— and the whole team started chanting his name.

A stab if jealousy shot through Isak, but he quickly brushed it off. He didn't want to be bitter. Despite how upset this game made him, they’d won and that really was something to celebrate. 

 

And celebrate they did. 

It had been Chris and Magnus’s conjoined idea to go to a bar to properly commemorate their win. Coach Anders had approved of the idea, of course. Even though he hadn't been very impressed with Rosenborg’s overall quality of play, he was still thrilled that they won, and they deserved to honor that. 

Since the end of the game, Isak had been fairly quiet. He’d engaged in some of the conversation in the locker room— it was kind of hard not to— but once they’d headed over to the bar Isak had found himself a nice stool and hadn't budged from it since they arrived. 

Isak was well beyond drunk at this point. He’d had about three beers and had been coerced into taking a few celebratory shots as well. Magnus and Mahdi tried to get him to come dance with them, but he refused loudly and shook his head until they left him alone— which wasn't the best idea since he was drunk and movement like that just made him dizzier. 

“Here you go, sir,” the bartender said, passing Isak another beer. 

Isak accepted the glass with a  _ thank you _ and leaned back on his stool so that his back was against the bar and he could watch everyone while they danced and had a good time. 

His eyes immediately spotted Even in the crowd. He was surrounded by their teammates, all of whom were excitedly jabbering at him and asking him to recount his penalty shot. 

Isak couldn't help but stare. No matter how much he hated Even he couldn't deny how pretty he was. How hot he looked all the fucking time, how unfair that was.

“Hey, bro. How come you're sulking at the bar? Come celebrate!” Jonas grinned, sliding into the empty still next to Isak. 

“I don't want to celebrate,” Isak answered, taking another sip of his beer.

“Why not? We just won the quarterfinals! We're that much closer winning Cupen. That's damn worth celebrating in my opinion.”

Isak shrugged. “I don't want to celebrate that asshole,” he stated simply, nodding towards Even. Magnus had an arm around his neck now and Even was beaming brightly, his cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. He looked so fucking good.

“He’s such a fucking dick,” Isak continued. “He didn't pass to me the entire fucking game. And then he has the nerve to fucking score the fucking game winning goal and show up here looking like a fucking… like fucking  _ that _ with his stupidly perfect hair and his dumb flannel and his fucking shitty face,” Isak gestured sloppily towards him. “I just want to fucking kiss—  _ kill _ . I just want to fucking kill him,” Isak sighed, knocking back the last of his beer. 

Jonas snorted next to him and patted Isak on the back. “I think he wants to kill you, too,” he replied, a smirk on his face as though his words had a double meaning. Isak was too drunk to catch on, though.

And he was too busy gawking at Even to even register that Jonas left him alone again. Suddenly, all he could think about was what it would be like to get his lips on Even’s. Even was probably a great kisser— he had the lips for it, soft and full. God, what Isak would do to just shove him up against a wall and kiss the shit out of him. He would love to just get his hands all over Even, maybe scratch him up a bit, leave a few bruises. Maybe even tear his clothes off, too and absolutely ravish him. Fuck, the hate sex would be so fucking amazing—

_ No. _

Isak quickly snapped out of his fantasy, shaking his head to clear his thoughts of all things Even. He hated the guy. He couldn't be fantasizing about him— no way.

No matter how amazing the angry sex would be, Isak was absolutely  _ not  _ about to fraternize with his worst enemy. 

No fucking way. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak was just so fucking frustrated with Even. He had everyone wound so damn tight around his finger it was a surprise that it hadn't lost circulation yet. Isak just didn't fucking get it. What the hell was so special about Even Bech Næsheim, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is hereeeee!! This is the moment (some of) you all have been waiting for...
> 
> (Also: small update: I still haven't touched chapter 8 yet rip I really need to work on it someone yell at me please gkdfslg I have so many deadlines and so little words :criesinnorwegian:)
> 
> Now, drumroll please........
> 
> Chapter 4!

The second Coach Anders blew his whistle to end practice, Isak abandoned the ball he'd been gearing up to send flying into the corner of the net and stormed off the field instead— his cleats churning up the tiny pieces of turf as he practically stomped towards the sidelines. He snatched his water bottle up from the bench and swung his bag carelessly over his shoulder immediately, not bothering to sit and remove his cleats and chat with his friends like usual.

Behind him, Mahdi and Magnus shared a curious look.

No one said anything as he stomped away from the team towards the locker room, and Isak suspected he'd have a good ten minute or so start on showering and changing before any of the others came in.

He shouldered open the locker room door, dropping his bag heavily on the bench when he was finally standing in front of his locker. His gaze landed on Even's two down from his own with that stupid purple lock and the stupid brass thirteen in the center.

Isak wanted to punch it. 

He was just so fucking frustrated with Even. He had everyone wound so damn tight around his finger it was a surprise that it hadn't lost circulation yet. Isak just didn't fucking get it. What the hell was so special about Even Bech Næsheim, anyway? He wasn't that spectacular of a football player. Isak had seen him trip over his feet more than enough in practice to know he was far from perfect. And his shots were nothing special either— anyone that knew even the smallest bit about how to kick a ball could make the shots Even made. 

Before he joined this team, he’d been a nobody. He hadn’t made a name for himself yet— he was just some random kid from Oslo who was decent with a football. But Isak had worked his whole damn life to be where he was now. He’d had to overcome so many obstacles and fight so hard for his place on this team. And his skillset— he’d put in so many grueling hours, so many demanding minutes, so many painstaking seconds, and so much money for trainers and equipment and opportunities— all to get him to be the player he was today. It had taken him a while to get his teammates to even like him as well. But Even… Even had waltzed right onto the field the very first day, and he hadn’t needed to do a single thing before everyone was worshipping at his feet.

And well, Isak was just so sick and tired about everyone fawning over him. 

Even then, in Coach Anders's post practice chat earlier, he'd mentioned Even's game winning goal just about seven different times and had made a joke about how the rest of the team needed to take notes. It was probably supposed to be light and teasing, but really it just rubbed Isak the wrong way. So the second Coach Anders had dismissed them Isak had taken off for the temporary safety of the locker room. 

He had to. If he'd had to stay and look at Even for one more second, or listen to his teammates gush about how beautiful the goal was even though it had been a good week since it had even happened, he would've lost it. 

Isak spun the combination into his lock, and once the door to his locker was open he lifted his shirt up his torso, yanked it over his head and tossed it inside the locker. Then he sat down on the bench and bent over to untie the laces on his cleats— a bit too aggressively— and pulled those off as well. He removed his socks and then shucked off his shorts so he was left in just his briefs, then grabbed a towel and left his locker to head towards the showers.

He chose the furthest one in the back and hung his towel on the hook before dropping his boxers and turning on the water. 

 

He was still in the shower when the rest of the boys finally made their way into the locker room. Isak could hear the way the door continuously opened and closed, the sound of lockers banging open and voices echoing throughout the locker room— but it didn't make him move any faster. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to any of his teammates at the moment, and hopefully they knew that his touchy mood meant they shouldn't dawdle. 

By the time he finally shut the water off, it had long gone cold. But as he secured the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower, he was pleased to see that everyone had already left.  _ At least they gave me that _ , he thought bitterly while he ambled back towards his locker.

Except when he turned the corner to his row, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes landing on the person sitting there. Fucking Even. He was sitting on the bench a foot away from his locker because Isak had spread most of his things out across it, his head ducked and body hunched over. His practice clothes were still on, and his hair was still stringy and unkempt from sweat and the wind. Upon examination, Isak noticed that the only thing he’d taken off was his cleats— he hadn’t even removed the ridiculous headband he always wore. (Staring at him now, Isak knew that he would never in a million years admit that he still found Even ridiculously attractive even like this.)

Isak’s movement had caught Even’s attention, and he looked up from his feet, his eyes landing square in the middle of Isak’s bare chest before flitting down. His mouth was hanging open a bit, and his eyes lingered there for far too long. The stare almost made Isak feel a bit self conscious, but he just pulled the towel tighter around his waist and shuffled over to his locker, trying not to let it bother him. 

“You’re still here,” Even’s voice rang out. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and it didn’t sound upset or irritated. In fact, it almost sounded as though Even were pleased.

Isak twisted his gaze over his shoulder so he could shoot Even a glare. “So are you. ,” he responded simply. “I thought everyone would have been gone by now. Including you— no—  _ especially _ you,” he snapped, not bothering to hide the disdain and disappointment in his voice. 

“I waited for you.” Even’s words were slow and steady, his sentence clipped. He folded his hands together in his lap and shifted his body towards Isak.

Isak felt the blood in his veins go hot at Even’s words. “You waited for me? Why the hell would you do that? Didn’t I make it obvious that I don’t want anything to do with you right now? Or ever?” 

“Yeah, you did. Which is why I waited for you,” Even replied. “Isak, you can’t ignore me forever. And you can’t just not pass me the damn ball because you don’t like me,” he huffed out. “That’s not how this works. Despite our… indifference towards each other, we’re teammates first and if you let your childish grudge on me affect how you play, it’s not just me you’re making suffer, but the whole fucking team. There’s no way in hell we’ll make it to Cupen finals if you keep that shit up. We’re lucky to have made it through this round.”

“If  _ I _ keep this shit up? Are you kidding me? You didn’t pass to—”

“Yes  _ you _ , Isak,” Even interrupted. “I mean, if you would’ve passed me the ball instead of trying to take a shot from such a shitty angle more than eighteen yards out then maybe I would’ve passed to you later on and you would’ve been the one who scored the game winning goal instead of me. But that’s not how it happened now, is it?” 

Isak’s face twisted up and he dropped the clean shirt he’d been holding in favor of turning completely towards Even and taking a few steps in his direction. “Jesus fuck, you’ve just got to bring up that stupid fucking goal, don’t you?” He spat, rolling his eyes.

Even shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “Why are you so angry over it? If it’s just a stupid fucking goal, then tell me, why the hell does it make you so mad? You have hundreds of them under your belt, Isak. Hundreds! This was my _first_ _tournament goal_! Why are you so bitter about it?” 

“Bitter? I’m not bitter, Even. I don't give a fuck that it wasn’t me who scored it, that's not the problem. The problem is that it wasn’t even a  _ good _ goal. It was a lucky shot and you know it!” He exclaimed, the anger rising in his chest with every word. At this point Even had risen to his feet, his arms crossed over his chest defiantly as he glowered at Isak, who was suddenly much closer than before. “It was a lucky shot that had absolutely no finesse to it, yet it’s all everyone can fucking talk about! For the past  _ week _ !” 

Even’s face scrunched up at that, his eyebrows pulling together and mouth twisting into a grimace. Before he could open his mouth to counter Isak’s argument, Isak already barreled on, the words pouring out of his mouth faster than he could stop them.

He took a yet another step towards Even, his finger coming up to point right at him. “Your play wasn’t good,” he jabbed his finger towards Even, “your goal wasn't good,” another finger jab, “ _ you’re  _ not good.”

Somehow, with every jab, Isak had subconsciously taken another step closer to Even until Even’s back connected with the metal locker behind him and he couldn’t move back anymore. They were only a hair’s breadth apart, breathing heavily into each other’s faces. Isak’s finger was still pushing into Even’s firm chest, and if he were to shift his head in any way at all their noses would be bumping and their lips would be touching.

Despite how close they were, their eyes still found each other and they spent a long moment just staring before Even’s eyes flickered down to Isak’s lips. His eyes were dark and hooded, and the longer Isak stared, the more he felt like he was drowning in them.

The jackrabbiting of Isak’s pulse kicked up a notch, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was still because of his anger or from the fact that he was almost completely naked, nearly pressed up against Even, and neither of them were doing anything to change that. Isak could hear the way Even’s breath hitched against his skin, causing a trail of goosebumps to break out across his arms. His leg was practically slotted between Even’s, and he could just barely make out how Even was at least half hard in his shorts right now. Isak felt his own dick twitch in interest.

The sound of Even’s back colliding into the metal locker behind him was enough to snap Isak out of his daze, but at the same time it snapped him into a particular  _ mindset _ — suddenly he couldn’t remember exactly why he was up in Even’s face like this until—

“Why the fuck do you hate me so much?” Even hissed.

And Isak was not about to answer that— not that he really had a proper response, anyway. Instead, he just let out an irritated snarl before he surged forward and crashed his lips against Even’s in a rough kiss that knocked the air out of both of their lungs— really more teeth clashing than it was actual kissing, but Isak had a firm grip on the front of Even’s jersey, dragging him in like he wasn’t about to slow down now. 

And Even… Well, Even was kissing back with just as much fervor, and his hands were grasping at Isak’s skin, just touching anywhere and everywhere he could get his fingers on. God only knows why he kissed back, but he did. Fiercely, desperately, and  _ god _ , did Isak love it. There was nothing soft or sweet about the kiss, but Isak couldn’t get enough of it, pushing his lips harder against Even’s as if that would get them any closer than they already were.

One of Even’s hands dropped from where it had been resting low against Isak’s bare back to dip below the hem of the towel and cup a good handful of Isak’s ass, pulling him closer so that their hips were flush and Isak’s leg properly slid between Even’s.

The tight hold Isak once had on the towel around his waist  slackened significantly, and the fabric was hanging so low it was barely covering anything anyway, so Isak wasted no time letting go of it completely in favor of firmly gripping Even’s chin so he could kiss him just so. The towel fell from around his waist and pooled at his feet, and Isak just kicked it aside. He unbunched his fingers from Even’s shirt and dropped them to the hem so he could tug up on it, letting Even know that he wanted it gone. 

Even added a little more force behind his kiss and playfully nipped at Isak’s bottom lip before pulling back, a wild look in his eyes as he scrambled to tear off his jersey. Frantically, he wrenched it over his head— the sound of a seam stretching a bit too far filling their ears— but neither of them cared as Even tossed the shirt to the side. Once it was out of the way, he grabbed at Isak and pulled him back in to reconnect their lips.

One of Isak’s hands gripped at the base of Even’s neck while the other fisted itself into the sweaty mess of Even’s hair, tugging hard enough to draw a groan from him. The sound was so guttural and so unexpected it went straight to Isak’s dick. He pushed his hips back into Even’s and couldn’t help moaning in response when he felt the hard shape of Even’s dick fattening against his thigh. 

Isak tipped his chin up, changing the angle of their kiss to deepen it. He let his fingers fall from the back of Even’s neck, trailing down past his ear and then over his collarbone until finally he flattened his palm against Even’s chest. It lingered there for a few moments before he finally dragged it lower and lower— until his fingers were following along the line of Even’s waistband, his thumb teasingly treading just barely underneath it. The sudden urge to get his hand on Even’s dick was overwhelming, and he pulled his other hand from Even’s hair so he could work on untying the too tight knot of Even’s shorts.

His focus fell away from the kiss, making it even messier as his finesse slackened, and Even just kept on pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to Isak’s lips. Had Isak not found it as infuriatingly hot as he did, it would have been almost comical how much it seemed like Even just wanted to eat him. A frustrated little grunt fell from Isak’s mouth, and he pulled back completely so Even’s lips weren't distracting him from his task at hand. 

Almost immediately a frown popped onto Even’s face— his brow furrowing at the loss of Isak’s mouth— but when he realized that Isak was working on getting rid of his shorts, his fingers joined Isak’s tugging at the strings. 

“Fuck, could you have tied these any tighter?” Isak hissed out, impatience coursing through his veins. 

When Even’s shaking fingers just got in the way of any progress Isak was making on the knot, he pushed them away and dug his nail into the loop, tugging harshly at it. Instead, Even just attached his lips to Isak’s neck and began to suck a bruise into the smooth skin, his teeth nipping every so often and sending a jolt all the way down to Isak’s toes.

Finally,  _ finally _ the knot came undone and Isak gripped his hands into the fabric on either side of Even’s hips before tugging the shorts down over Even’s thighs. His shorts crumpled to the floor at his feet. He had to stifle a groan when he saw the tight pair of spandex that hugged his thighs, both because  _ god damn were his thighs beautiful _ , but also because those were just another layer keeping him from Even’s dick. 

Luckily, the spandex didn’t have a tie or a zipper or a fucking riddle bearing troll to hinder the process of removing them, and Isak did just that as quickly as he could. 

This time, he did let out a groan when he was met with yet  _ another  _ layer— Even’s damn boxers.

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t go commando?” Isak whined, shooting Even a withering look before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of the fabric and shoved the last offending article of clothing off.

Even’s cock sprung free and gently slapped up against his stomach. Isak’s mouth practically watered at the sight. His fingertips were itching to get ahold of it, and he didn’t hesitate another second before he was reaching out and wrapping a hand around the shaft, sliding his palm down until he was at the base, where he gave it a light squeeze. 

Even’s lips stuttered against Isak’s skin at the feeling, and a broken moan slipped past them. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his forehead against Isak’s shoulder, his nose smushing into Isak’s collarbone. “ _ Shit _ , Isak,” Even breathed out, and  _ god _ , hearing Even say his name like that did  _ things _ to Isak. 

His own dick was sitting heavy between his legs and he bucked his hips up into Even’s, desperately searching for at least a little bit of friction— the need to get off against Even’s taught body growing stronger and stronger with every passing second. Isak’s thrusts started out slow, and he let out a quiet little noise at the glorious feeling of some long awaited pressure on his lower half. Even huffed out a responding whine into Isak’s shoulder and suddenly crushed his mouth back over Isak’s. Isak kissed back, hard and fast and relentlessly as he tightened his grip on Even before beginning to pump his fist at a pace that matched his thrusts. 

Almost immediately, Even let out a long moan that Isak just swallowed down. He took the opportunity to push his tongue into Even’s open mouth and brushed it experimentally against Even’s, earning himself another encouraging grunt and a just-as-enthusiastic tongue nudging back against his own. 

“Fuck, Isak,  _ pick up the fucking pace _ ,” Even suddenly hissed, tearing his mouth away from Isak’s for just one fleeting second to stare icily into Isak’s eyes. The look was so intense, it was  _ so much _ that Isak’s movements all but halted, and the two of them just stared (or, really, glared) at each other, their chests heaving in between them as they frantically sucked in some air. Even’s pupils were completely blown— Isak could barely see the blue of his irises anymore— and his cheeks were flushed a splotchy pink that trailed all the way down his neck and chest. He looked  _ so good _ like this, and Isak knew he would be absolutely fucked anytime he saw Even all hot and sweaty on the field now because all he’d be able to think about was  _ this _ . 

Isak wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were crashing together again, their kisses even more frantic, their movements rushed and teetering on just the right side of rough. And Isak did listen to Even— he really did. He continued thrusting his groin against Even’s thigh, but now at a much faster pace than before. His hand, however, continued to stroke up and down the shaft with painstakingly slow drags. Isak could tell that Even was getting frustrated by it— his hips were now driving forward, trying to coax Isak into action, but Isak wasn’t having it. 

_ Two can play at this game _ , he thought shrewdly. If Even didn’t think Isak could handle the damn football all game, well, then Isak really had no reason to go near his. 

The longer Isak kept at it, the longer he grinded down against Even’s thigh, the closer he could feel himself getting; he knew it wouldn’t be long before the need to come would grow too overwhelming. His toes were beginning to tingle, and he could feel that coil of heat deep inside of him flaring up, licking at his insides, begging for more. 

Isak could feel the way Even’s fingers clenched into his shoulder, his blunt nails digging into the skin there, just on the edge of too tight. His body was trembling under Isak’s, little tremors rippling through his muscles, making his abdomen jump and his dick twitch in Isak’s hand the closer he got. Finally, Isak decided to show him some mercy, and he squeezed Even’s dick again before speeding up his hand. 

A choked sound emitted from Even, and he let his head fall back and clang against the lockers behind him. His hips were starting to move back against Isak’s hand at a quicker pace, and Isak only had to jerk his dick three times before his body seized up and he was coming hard— painting Isak’s lower abdomen and spilling onto the side of his hand.

Even was shaking from the force of his orgasm and his breaths were deep and short, sweat glistening over the expanse of his chest and at his hairline. His face was still twisted up with pleasure, eyes big and glossy, lips shiny with spit. It only added fuel to the fire that was burning hot in Isak.

Not having to worry about coaxing Even to his release anymore, Isak could focus on chasing his own. One of his hands snaked its way up into Even’s hair, his fingers tightening around a fistfull of it, and his other hand dug into the skin of Even’s hip. His own hips were hammering back into Even’s, little grunts and groans falling from his lips— he didn’t care enough to try and hold them back anymore. 

Even was mouthing at his neck again and his hands were wandering all over Isak’s body, touching his shoulders and his back and grabbing at his ass again. It was only turning Isak on more, having Even’s hands  _ everywhere _ on him like that, and he could feel the heat in his stomach building. 

Isak wanted to hold onto the feeling, wanted to push himself to go even longer— it just felt too good, and he knew that once this was over, it would be just that:  _ over _ . He knew that the second this all ended, he and Even would go back to hating each other, would go back to throwing dirty looks and snarky comments, would go back to avoiding each other and refusing to pass to one another. Part of him— a very small, teeny-tiny part of him— didn’t want that to happen. Returning to reality meant that Isak wouldn’t get to see Even like this again— completely open and vulnerable for him. But a bigger part of him was ready for that, because  _ god _ , how the hell would he be able to function around Even if he didn’t hate him? He would be a fucking mess.

It didn’t take much more before Isak’s insides felt like they were going to burst. His breathing was coming out ragged and his head had sagged against Even’s shoulder. Isak’s entire body was thrumming like a livewire, and try as he might, he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips stuttered against Even’s thigh, and his whole body tensed as he threw his head back with a loud cry and gave in to what his body so desperately wanted. 

 

When they finally came down from their highs, Even’s body stiffened under Isak’s— his gaze turning cold. Gently but firmly, he pushed Isak off of him and moved to grab his jersey from where it had been abandoned on the floor. He wiped the come from his stomach, then balled the fabric up and tossed it into his locker.

Isak, still standing naked where Even had left him, watched silently as he pulled on a new shirt he’d grabbed from his bag and then hiked his shorts up his hips, not bothering with the drawstring. 

Even stepped into his slides, shouldered his bag, then turned towards Isak with a resigned sigh. His eyes flickered up to Isak’s, and when blue met green Isak couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his spine due to the intense look in Even’s eyes. Isak might have been expecting Even to ask him to keep this under wraps, to not mention that it ever happened, maybe even ask him to forget about it. He hadn’t expected this, though.

“Grow the fuck up and pass me the damn ball next time,” Even snapped. 

Then he was slamming his locker shut and pushing past Isak and the mess they’d made so he could stalk out the locker room door, not looking back once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a week had passed since the Incident and Isak and Even hadn’t even said hello to each other, let alone gone back to their constant bickering.
> 
> In fact, they’d been so avidly avoiding each other that it had started to catch the attention of others. Even those that weren’t as observant were starting to catch on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii chapter 5 has arrived!  
> I really really hate that I've barely written anything for chapter 8, I really need to get on that so I'm able to keep up with the schedule once I catch up ahh!! I have 4 projects I'm working on (including ch.8) that are due around the 8th-12th, so hopefully I can finished them all, especially ch.8!!!!
> 
> Anywayyysss, shoutout to my roomie, a particular part of this chapter was inspired by her, so she's the reason for Isak's drunk shenanigans. (And Mikki for agreeing to this idea 110% lmaoo).
> 
> Also special thanks to [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovian1243/pseuds/whovian1243) for betaing this one for me, love youu <33
> 
> Hope you all like it!!

The first practice after The Locker Room Incident, as Isak was dubbing it in his mind, had been an awkward affair, and every time Isak had caught a glimpse of Even he’d felt himself flush bright red from the tips of his ears right down to his toes. He thanked his lucky stars that Coach had planned a particularly tough practice with lots of sprinting that helped mask Isak’s blush. Isak hadn’t bothered with any of his usual snide comments or bitter remarks towards Even, instead had avoided him like the plague. It seemed as though Even had had the same idea though, because he hadn’t gone out of his way to irritate Isak in any way; however, his steering clear of Isak only amplified the lack of interaction on field, and what few balls Even previously used to send his way during practice were suddenly completely nonexistent.

About a week had passed since the Incident and he and Even hadn’t even said hello to each other, let alone gone back to their constant bickering. 

In fact, they’d been so avidly avoiding each other that it had started to catch the attention of others. Even those that weren’t as observant were starting to catch on.

 

“So,” Magnus started, letting his sentence trail off as he waited for Isak’s attention to turn from the screen, where his and Jonas’s Fifa game was displayed, to him. The three of them were perched on Isak and Magnus’s couch, and Jonas was currently kicking Isak’s ass at Fifa. One would think that they would have had enough of football seeing as they were all professionals of the sport, but nah. Most of their free time was spent dedicated to Fifa, believe it or not. And unfortunately, Jonas somehow always found a way to beat Isak. (It didn't bother Isak that much since he knew he he’d be able to kick Jonas’s ass on a real pitch anyday.) “You and Even…”

And Isak’s plan to ignore Magnus and what he thought was a dirty distraction technique to help Jonas win the game all but flew out the window. 

Isak felt himself tense up at Magnus’s words and he waited with baited breath for him to finish his thought. There was no way Magnus had found out about what happened. It was impossible. Isak certainly hadn’t told him and he was pretty positive Even hadn’t brought it up either. Not to mention he was positive the locker room had been empty when it happened.  

“Uh, what about me and Even?” Isak asked slowly, finally stealing the ball from Jonas’s player. It didn't last long though, and Jonas stole it back right away— though Isak’s mind was racing too fast, the panic settling in too much for him to bother trying to challenge Jonas’s player again.

“Well, that’s just it,” Magnus said, and the look on his face told Isak that he was trying to figure out the right way to bring say what was on his mind. “There hasn’t been a you and Even.” 

Isak scrunched up his face and shot Magnus a look from the corner of his eye. “There never was a  _ me and Even _ , Mags. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“There kind of is though, isn’t there?” Jonas added, jumping into the conversation. “You two are always trying to one up each other on how much you hate each other, but you haven’t been at each other’s throats lately. Like all week actually. It’s been kind of… weird.”

Magnus nodded his agreement right away. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

Isak swallowed nervously and kept his eyes trained on the screen, careful not to look at either Jonas or Magnus. He was too afraid there would be something in his eyes that gave him away.

“Did something happen between you two?” Jonas asked curiously.

“No. No, nothing happened between us,” Isak replied quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.

Did something happen between him and Even? Of course something happened, something kind of  _ big _ , too. Just thinking about it now Isak could feel his cheeks flush hot as the memories flooded back into his brain. He could still feel the ghost of Even’s fingers gripping at his back, could still taste his lips on his own, could still hear every little sound Even had made. 

Isak tried his hardest not to think about it, he really did. Because everytime he caught himself dwelling on what happened he felt something stirring in his gut. Isak wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was there and the pull felt stronger every time he thought of Even and that day. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Jonas was too focused on the screen to bother looking over at Isak. He had no idea how he’d begin to explain the blush on his cheeks had Jonas caught it. 

“Okay,” Jonas replied slowly, as though he didn't quite believe Isak. “Well, I’m just glad you two haven't been holding your stupid grudges against each other all week. It's been kind of nice.”

Isak wanted to roll his eyes and reply “No, Jonas, it's been fucking awkward as hell,” but he refrained. 

Magnus, on the other hand, squinted his eyes at Isak. “Why the fuck are you so red?” He blurted, his voice dripping with suspicion. It only made Isak’s cheeks burn hotter.

“Er, sunburn,” Isak responded, still staring at the screen. 

“Shit, you got burned at the game too?” Jonas asked, shaking his head beside him. 

Thankfully, Magnus didn’t question him. Instead he went back to whatever he’d been doing on his phone before while Jonas droned on about the sun and how he knew he should wear more sunscreen but always forgot.

“You know what?” Magnus suddenly exclaimed, causing Isak to jump a little in his seat. Jonas paused the game so he could turn towards Magnus as well. “We’re going out tonight to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Isak repeated, face twisting up. He had no idea what they would be celebrating— it wasn’t anyone’s birthday and nothing big had happened recently.

“Yes, celebrate,” Magnus repeated, emphasizing the word. “We’ve got to do something for this ‘potential breakthrough’ between you and Even. This could be the start of you two not hating each other anymore!” 

The apprehension must have shown on Isak’s face because suddenly Jonas was clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a small shake. “That’s not a bad idea, Mags. Come on, Isak, you really gonna turn down free drinks from Magnus?”

And well, Isak wasn't about to say no to some free booze.

 

As a professional football player, Isak knew that whenever he went out to drink he needed to limit himself. Especially if game day was near. However, since it was a Sunday and they didn't have another game for an entire week and a half Isak figured it was okay to indulge a little.

Magnus, true to his word, had paid for every drink Isak had ordered (another factor that influenced Isak’s decision to let loose a little bit) and Jonas had even stuck by Isak’s side the entire night instead of going off to try and find a hookup like Magnus had. The three of them tore up the dance floor later on— Isak more willingly so because of how drunk he was— and overall had a pretty great night.

When their night finally came to an end they’d walked to the nearest tram stop, and Isak was drunk enough that he needed just a little bit of help walking upright. Thankfully Jonas was there and was more than willing to help him (and laugh at him too.)

Isak was leaning heavily into Jonas’s side— more because he started to feel tired than because he couldn’t actually walk— as Jonas led them towards the front door of Isak and Magnus’s apartment. Magnus ended up dropping the key a few times and Jonas left Isak’s side to help Magnus pick it up since he was laughing so hard. Isak just leaned against the wall, his hands dragging up and down the brick behind him.

The door finally swung open after a few failed attempts at fitting the key into the lock, and as the three of them walked into the apartment Isak kicked off his shoes and dropped his jacket onto the floor before stumbling further into the flat. He collapsed onto the couch, a warm grin spreading over his lips as he tilted his head back against the cushions and extended his limbs across the surface. 

“I’m going to get you some water, Is,” Jonas said, laughing softly to himself as he left Isak on the couch and walked into the kitchen.

“Oh shit,” Magnus cried out, laughing to himself as he held his phone up in front of his face. “Isak, Isak, Isak,” he chanted, trying to get Isak’s attention. “The girl I was talking with just sent me a topless picture, oh my god,” he squawked, his eyes wide and full of excitement. 

Magnus tried to turn his phone towards Isak to show him, but Isak squeezed his eyes shut and held out his hand to stop Magnus. “No, Magnus, stop,” he protested, shaking his head. Isak never understood why girls did that, took scandalous pictures of themselves and sent them out to horny boys who always without a doubt screenshotted and spread the pictures. But as he was thinking about how much it didn’t make sense his mind started to wander until it slipped into uncharted, potentially dangerous territories— like Even sending him pictures. Or him sending Even pictures. Fuck, what he would give to see the smooth planes of Even’s body again, to have his skin under his fingers, his lips on his.

Jonas returned with a full glass of water and he made Isak drink the entire thing. As Isak’s lips closed over the edge of the glass he couldn’t help but let the not so clean thoughts filter into his mind even more. Like how much he would’ve loved to have Even’s mouth on him just like this the other day— how much he would’ve loved to get  _ his _ mouth on  _ Even _ . He could feel his dick give a twitch of interest in his pants.

And shit. His dick.

What would Even say if he knew Isak was getting hard thinking of him? Thinking of all the things he wanted to do with and to him? The thoughts weren’t in Isak’s mind very long before an idea popped into into his head. The longer he thought about it, all those girls that sent naked pictures of themselves didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.

Suddenly he was sitting upright and bolting towards the bathroom. He heard Magnus call a “get sick in the toilet or you’re cleaning up after yourself” after him, but Isak didn’t pay it much attention. His stomach was twisting, though it definitely wasn’t because he was about to throw up.

No, he was heading to the bathroom because he had an idea. An idea that involved a mirror, a camera, and himself with a greater lack of clothes.

When Isak made it into the bathroom he locked the door behind him just to be safe and immediately pulled off his shirt. He popped open the button of his jeans and kicked those off as well, leaving him standing there in just his boxers— a tight white pair that he looked damn good in.

Isak picked his phone up off of the counter in front of him where he’d placed it before he removed his jeans and typed in his passcode with shaking fingers. He scrolled back to the home page before clicking on the camera icon in the bottom left corner.

Part of him couldn't believe he was about to do this— about to set himself up and look for the perfect angle and take one of those douchey underwear photos all to send to a guy he supposedly hated. But that other part of him— the horny part of him— overpowered the logical side, and Isak lifted his phone and positioned himself so that his shoulders were squared towards the mirror and his hips were turned a bit, making his waist look slim and his chest look extra broad. He lowered the camera enough that his face was cut out of the picture and he brought his free hand down to cup himself through his boxers. When he was finally satisfied with the position he was in he snapped the photo. Without bothering to look it over he opened his messages with Even— all of which were Isak providing Even with information pertaining to their games and a simple ‘ok’ in response from Even. Isak attached the photograph and hit send before he could think better of the decision. 

Leaving his clothes discarded in the bathroom Isak let himself out and headed back to his room, where he collapsed onto his bed and basked in the softness of his duvet for a good few seconds before he remembered the picture. He lifted his phone over his face and his eyes flew towards the bottom of the text bubble only to find no checkmark waiting for him. Isak let out a huff and dropped his phone back to his side. 

Not even ten seconds later he was holding his phone up again, looking for the checkmark. Again, it wasn't there. 

This went on for at least a minute before Isak gave up and killed the messaging app. He decided to scroll through Instagram a bit, and he grinned when he saw the picture Jonas had posted of the two of them from the beginning of the night. They had their arms around each other and were wearing huge smiles, a glass of beer in both of their hands. Isak double tapped on it to like it and kept scrolling. 

When he finally got bored with Instagram Isak opened his messaging app again, and he felt his breath hitch when the check mark was waiting for him right below his picture.

Even had seen it. 

Immediately Isak’s eyes dropped lower to see if there was a bubble signifying that Even was typing, but to his disappointment there was none. He rolled onto his stomach and waited for a good five minutes, just staring at his phone screen and tapping it to keep it live every time it went dark, but no reply or acknowledgement came. 

Isak could feel himself growing antsy. Did Even not think that was enough? Is that why he wasn't replying? Because he wasn't impressed? Because it wasn't what he wanted to see? 

After a few more minutes Isak sat up, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. It was clear that Even wasn't going to respond— maybe he just needed more encouragement. With that in mind, Isak found his fingers trailing down his chest until he got to the waistband of his boxers. He pushed them down his thighs and took himself in his hand. Isak gave his dick a few tugs before he lifted his phone again, the camera app open. 

Finding a good angle for this photo was a bit more challenging than before. Whereas before he could twist his body and flex his muscles, taking a picture of his dick was a much harder thing to do. He angled his camera a few different ways, but none of them made his dick look particularly good. It took Isak a lot longer than he’d like to admit to finally find one where it looked decent enough, and he snapped the picture. Again, he didn’t take time to look at the end product, instead just attached the picture to his messages with Even and hit send.

This time around the wait was even more agonizing, but it didn’t last as long.

Barely even a minute had passed before the check mark appeared underneath Isak’s picture, and when he saw it his heart leapt into his throat. He spent the next ten minutes — it felt like ten hours— staring at his phone screen, willing Even to reply in some way,  _ any way _ . 

Eventually, the screen dimmed and this time Isak didn’t tap it to keep it alive because his eyes had fallen shut. Had he not been as drunk as he was, Isak probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep so quickly while waiting for a response, but it was probably for the best that he had.

 

The next day at practice was weird to say the least.

As per usual, Isak and Even only spoke to each other through insults and put-downs (though much fewer than usual), but it didn’t take long for Isak to catch the look Even would give him after each one. Rather than being twisted up in irritation or disdain for Isak’s presence, his features took on a heady sort of expression that made Isak squirm in the best of ways. 

No matter how much Isak tried to keep his eyes off of Even, it was practically impossible. Throughout the entire practice, Isak found himself stealing glances at the other boy every few seconds, and every single time his stomach flipped and heart rate kicked up when he found Even staring right back, that same hungry look sparkling in his eyes.

It was clear that Even had gotten his pictures from the night before, and the longer Isak thought about it the more he realized that maybe Even didn’t respond because he wanted to answer them  _ in person _ . The thought kept nagging at Isak’s mind, and it made it impossible for him to focus on the tasks at hand. Isak ended up tripping over his own feet more times than he could count, and Jonas had to call his name at least three times before he snapped out of his reverie and realized that he’d missed Jonas’s pass. 

By the time practice ended and the team was gathered around Coach Anders for their post practice chat, Isak’s shorts were on the brink of being uncomfortably tight. He shifted on his feet, trying to subtly adjust himself and let his eyes wander over the faces of his teammates until they landed on Even’s. 

His intense stare was already fixed on Isak, his eyes hooded and dark. Isak felt his mouth go dry and he dropped his gaze to Even’s lips. The lower one was sucked into Even’s mouth, and he watched, completely transfixed, as it popped back out of his mouth, shiny and wet. God, he wanted to kiss him so bad. He wanted Even’s mouth on more than just his own though, and he let his mind wander to the way it would feel to finally have that happen. (He’d been dreaming about it since the first time they’d hooked up— sue him.)

A sudden elbow to his ribs had Isak snapping out of his fantasy, and he blinked a few times as he came back to reality to find Jonas sending him a skeptical look. 

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” Jonas demanded.

“What was what?” Isak asked carefully, trying to school his features into something less akin to a child that just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“You were just eye fucking the shit out of Even,” Jonas stated blankly, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Try as he might, Isak couldn’t stop the blush from darkening his cheeks, but he quickly shook his head. “No,” he denied right away. 

Jonas narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Isak. “To be fair, he was eye fucking the shit out of you too, but what the hell was that all about?”

“No idea, bro,” Isak responded, pressing his lips together and offering Jonas a half hearted shrug.

“Alright boys, see you all tomorrow for practice,” Coach Anders’s voice rang out, and Isak had never before been so relieved to hear it. 

The circle disbanded and as Isak collected his things, a sudden wave of anxious energy washed over him. He was practically vibrating in his shoes, unable to stand still, eager as though he were anticipating something— though he had no idea what. 

He just knew that it had something to do with Even and how his eyes on Isak all practice long had to have been some sort of response to the pictures Isak had sent him. Isak hoped that was just a prelude and that there was more to come.

In the locker room Isak had trouble focusing on the conversation that was going on around him. Jonas and Magnus and Mahdi were discussing something, but if you were to ask Isak what, he wouldn’t have an answer. He was so lost in his mind, so busy trying not to work himself up that all words were lost on him. The boys must have noticed as well, because they stopped trying to ask for his opinion after the fourth “hmm?” Isak had offered in response to one of their questions. 

Isak took his sweet time in the shower, partly because it was a challenge to hide his half mast boner from the rest of the guys and partly because he was trying to waste as much time as he could and give the others a head start on him, because if something was going to happen with Even— which Isak was banking on— it wouldn’t be until they were alone. 

 

By the time that came around Isak was practically shivering with anticipation. 

The boys were a bit confused as to why Isak was moving slower than molasses while getting  changed, but Isak made up some bullshit, barely passable excuse that the boys reluctantly seemed to believe. Eventually they said their goodbyes to Isak and headed for the doors.

They were the last ones to leave, besides Isak and Even of course, and the second the locker room door shut behind them Isak slammed his locker shut and spun around only to be met with Even standing right there. 

He had that same sensual look in his eyes as he took three steps towards Isak and crowded him up against the lockers. Even dipped his head so that his lips were right against Isak’s ear. “Those fucking pictures,” he breathed, his voice low and heavy with desire. He pulled his head back so he could look into Isak’s eyes again, and Isak tipped his chin up and surged forward to crush his lips against Even’s, his hand coming up to grip tightly at the back of Even’s neck and secure him in place.

Even met the kiss with an equal fervor, and he pressed himself flush against Isak, rolling his hips into Isak’s. Isak thrust his hips back against Even’s, reveling in the way their dicks lined up and the feelings it sent shooting through his body.

Isak wound his fingers into Even’s hair and swiped his tongue across Even’s lower lip, to which Even obliged almost immediately and opened his mouth for Isak.

After that the kiss turned messy— all clashing teeth and wet, open mouths, noses squishing against each other’s cheeks as they changed angles to deepen the kiss. Isak was achingly hard in his shorts, and he let out an embarrassingly high pitch whine as Even’s dick grinded against his.

It was then that Even disconnected his lips from Isak’s and began kissing a trail down his neck, over his nipples, across his bare stomach, slowly sinking to his knees as he did so. His fingers hooked into the shorts Isak had put on after his shower, just so he wasn’t walking around naked, and shoved them to the floor.

Even wrapped his fingers tightly around Isak’s dick, his thumb swiping across the head, collecting the precome that had gathered there. He dragged his palm from tip to base and back up again, and above him, Isak shuddered. A soft moan slipped past Isak’s lips at the pressure Even’s hand was providing him. It felt so good that his eyes rolled back and his head thudded against the locker behind him. 

Suddenly Isak felt a pair of wet lips closing around the tip of his dick, and his eyes flew open, a long, loud cry falling from his lips. Isak’s gaze shot down to look at Even, and he nearly came right then and there just from the sight of Even— his cheeks hollowed around Isak, a flush high on his cheekbones, his eyelashes fluttering as he stared up at Isak and sucked like his life depended on it.

“Fuck, Even,” Isak breathed out, reaching down to thread his fingers into Even’s hair. Gently, he pushed at the back of Even’s head, and Even sank down even further on him, taking Isak in until he hit the back of his throat. 

Isak’s knees nearly buckled and he scrabbled for purchase against the lockers behind him, but to no avail. Even was sucking him off with such eagerness, his head bobbing enthusiastically, cheeks hollowed as he swiped his tongue across the veins running along the side of Isak’s dick. 

“Even, Even, Even,  _ Even _ ,” Isak chanted, his chest rising and falling at such a rapid pace it felt like he was barely getting any air in his lungs. “Fuck—  _ shit _ — I’m gonna… M’gonna come,” Isak wailed as Even swallowed around his dick.

Isak’s whole body tensed up and his thighs started to shake as his orgasm crashed into him, sweeping through his body and flooding him with absolute pleasure. He spilled into Even’s mouth, and Even, ever the champ, just swallowed it down and continued to suck Isak through the aftershock of his orgasm.

When he finally popped off, Even pressed a kiss to the tip of Isak’s dick and wiped an arm across his mouth before he rose to his feet. Isak grappled at Even’s body, trying to pull him close so he could kiss him again, and unlike the previous time they’d hooked up, Even didn’t leave right away, but stepped back into Isak’s space and obliged, pressing his lips back against Isak’s.

They kissed for a little while longer as Isak came down from his high, but eventually Even pulled away. Isak let out a whine at the loss of contact, but he didn’t let it deter him from shoving his hand down the front of Even’s shorts to close his fingers around Even’s dick. 

The angle was awkward enough for his wrist to start hurting right away, and the fact that Even’s shorts were still completely on didn’t help, but thankfully it only took three strokes from Isak before Even was shuddering and coming into Isak’s fist.

Isak was almost mesmerized as he watched a wet patch slowly start to spread across the front of Even’s shorts, and he couldn’t keep the self-satisfied smirk off of his face. He pulled his hand from Even’s pants and stared at his palm for a moment before his eyes flickered over to meet Even’s.

Slowly, he brought his palm towards his mouth and his tongue poked out to lick a stripe over his hand, cleaning off some of the come. The way Even was gaping back at him had Isak thinking that Even was considering a round two— something Isak definitely wouldn’t mind. 

But Even quickly shook himself out of his stupor, swallowing hard and running a hand through his hair as he recollected himself. Then he picked Isak’s shorts up from the ground and passed them back to Isak before he turned to gather his own belongings. 

This time, as Even slung his bag over his shoulder he turned back towards Isak, a smirk of his own on his lips. “Thanks for the pictures,” he grinned, his voice coming out completely wrecked. 

And with that he turned and left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Isak wrenched the door open, he was met with the sight of Even leaning smoothly against the wall just on the other side of Isak and Jonas’s door. He had a smirk on his lips and his hair was still a messy disaster from their game—it looked so fucking good, though— and Isak wanted nothing more than to twist his hands through it right now. Even was still in his uniform, of course, the white fabric of his shorts hugging the curve of his ass as he waltzed past Isak and into the room. “Halla,” he threw casually over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6!!!! Wooo!! 
> 
> Special thanks to [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabeley/pseuds/Sabeley) for helping me with a particular part in this chapter ;)) I was pretty worried about it since I hadn't written _that_ before, but your advice was great and I actually think it turned out pretty okay? So yeah. Thank you, I love youuuu  <33
> 
> Update on my progress: Still have barely touched chapter 8, rip my life, I'm trying my very hardest and I'm really really hoping I'll be able to finish it this week so I have it in time for posting date!! Buuut I have 2 other fics I'll be posting this week (hopefully!!!!) so stay tuned for those!! <3
> 
> Now without further ado, chapter 6!

“We just fucking killed it, boys!” Magnus whooped, smacking Isak and Jonas on the ass before sprinting past them and jumping into the air, attempting to click his heels together but ultimately failing. 

Isak rolled his eyes at Magnus, but he couldn't keep the huge grin off of his face. They’d just fucking won their Semifinal game against Vålerenga and he’d been one of the three goal scorers, so yeah—he felt fucking great. 

In addition to Isak, both Even and Chris had scored as well, and somewhere behind him, Isak could hear the way his teammates were fawning over Even and his goal. (Isak did have to admit that it was a beautiful goal—Julian had taken a corner kick and thanks to Even’s height, he’d been able to get his head on it and send it into the corner of the net, right past the unsuspecting keeper.)

“God, that win felt great,” Mahdi enthused as they approached the front of the hotel they were staying at. 

“Damn right it did,” Isak agreed, following Mahdi through the front door he’d held open for him.

“We’re going to the fucking championships!” Jonas crowed.

Coach Anders was already inside talking to the receptionist behind the counter when the rest of the team crowded into the lobby. Isak was standing between Jonas and Mahdi, and as he looked across from him he saw Even standing there, his eyes already trained on Isak. There was a hint of a smirk on his face, and he quirked his eyebrow at Isak. Isak knew the look immediately—he’d seen it far too often over the past few months and had grown far too used to it as well. He could see the hunger burning in Even’s eyes, the lifted brow a silent question that Isak sent a small nod to in response. 

When Coach Anders was finally done talking with the receptionist, he made his way over to the team and held up a stack of room keys. “Alright, boys, congrats on the win again—you all played fantastic today. I've got your room keys here. You already know who you’re staying with,” he said and started to pass the cards out. “You’re free for the rest of the day until our team dinner. See you all there.” And with that Coach Anders departed, presumably to retreat to his own room for a nap or to call his wife and tell her about the game.

Chris turned towards the group, a glint in his eyes. “So, who’s in to go check out the bar and celebrate this win?” he asked, a smirk on his face. He was met with a chorus of cheers.

Isak, on the other hand, didn't let out a whoop or any sort of positive affirmation, and Jonas nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “You coming?” he asked.

An apologetic expression rose to Isak’s face and he offered Jonas a half-hearted shrug. “I think I pulled something in my leg during the game, so I'm just gonna head up to our room and roll it out.” 

Jonas frowned, but he let it slide nonetheless. “Alright. Don't think I'm letting this go though,” he warned. “I hope your leg feels better after you roll it out,” he added sincerely, patting Isak’s shoulder.

Isak nodded and smiled at Jonas before his eyes flickered back towards Even, who wasn’t looking at him anymore, but was clapping his hand against Chris’s and laughing at something the other boy had said. Isak felt his stomach twist as he watched the interaction, and something in the very far corner of his brain told him that he’d gotten his hopes up that he and Even would be finding a nice, private place to exchange blowjobs or something. 

His suspicions were all but confirmed when Magnus rounded on Even, calling out a peppy, “Even! Are you coming to the bar?”

Isak turned towards Even again to see his answer—it was a yes, of course. Even nodded his head and beamed brightly at Magnus. “Of course I am!” he cheered. “Gotta celebrate, right?”

Refraining from rolling his eyes, Isak hoisted his bag higher onto his shoulder and started to head towards the elevators. He felt a little bad ditching the boys now that he knew Even wasn't coming up to join him, but it would be pretty weird if he were to change his mind so suddenly. When the elevator doors opened, Isak stepped in, hit the button with the black two on it, and waited for the doors to shut.

After exiting the elevator, Isak made his way to room 221 and swiped the key card, waiting for the light to turn green before he pushed into the room. Right away he dumped his bags onto the floor and kicked off his slides, but he’d barely had a moment to look around before there was a knock on the door. 

A curious expression popped onto Isak’s face as he made his way back towards the door. He paused once he got there, hesitating for a second as he tried to wrack his brain and figure out who he’d see once he opened it. No matter how hard he thought about it, he had no idea who would be on the other side—the boys were all getting their drink on downstairs, and it’s not as though Isak had ordered room service or called down to the front desk for anything. After a few more seconds, Isak figured he’d better open the door and actually figure out who it was rather than stand there and theorize.

When he wrenched the door open, he was met with the sight of Even leaning smoothly against the wall just on the other side of Isak and Jonas’s door. He had a smirk on his lips and his hair was still a messy disaster from their game—it looked so fucking good, though— and Isak wanted nothing more than to twist his hands through it right now. Even was still in his uniform, of course, the white fabric of his shorts hugging the curve of his ass as he waltzed past Isak and into the room. “Halla,” he threw casually over his shoulder.

Isak’s shock lasted for a few seconds before he was slamming the door shut and rounding on Even. “What are you doing here?” he asked curiously. “I thought you were getting a drink with the guys,” he added, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“As much as you think I’m an asshole, this whole arrangement doesn’t just benefit you, and I’m not too keen on giving myself blue balls,” Even replied, his smirk growing as his eyes flickered over Isak’s body. “I told the guys I forgot my ID and needed to go get it,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

Isak scoffed—it sounded more fond than irritated, though—and rolled his eyes, but Even wasted no time stepping into his space. Suddenly it was much harder for Isak to breathe, especially when Even’s hands immediately glued themselves to his sides, pushing underneath his shirt to touch bare skin. 

It was Even who leaned in first, but Isak didn't waste a second getting his lips on Even’s. It hadn’t even been that long since he last kissed him, but every second that he didn't have Even’s lips on his was a second wasted in Isak’s opinion. 

And god, if someone had told Isak at the beginning of the season that he and  _ Even _ of all people would fall into bed together—  _ continuously _ — he would’ve laughed in their face and rolled his eyes because  _ him and Even _ ? No way. 

But here he was, actually falling into bed with him for the nth time over the past few months. What had started out as something fueled solely by hatred and anger had turned into something more. Rather than scraping nails down backs or pulling fistfulls of hair, their touches were softer, lacking the urgency Isak had grown accustomed to, and the promise of something more seemed to linger behind each one. 

Their kiss started out frantic and needy, as though it had been years since they’d last kissed (when, in fact, it had only been about a week). Even’s hands roamed all down Isak’s back, dropping down to grab his ass. Isak groaned into his mouth and pushed himself as close to Even as he could, their fronts molding together perfectly.

Even, clearly wanting to move them somewhere more horizontal—like the bed that was conveniently right behind them—took a step forward, his foot bumping into Isak’s, signalling for him to start walking as well. Only Isak was far too eager and ended up taking too large of a step backwards, his heel connecting with the bag he’d forgotten he dumped there. Isak tumbled backwards, his lips wrenching away from Even’s as he landed half on the bed, half off. Even, who had still been attached to Isak by, well, almost everything, fell too and collapsed right on top of him. 

A laugh bubbled up in Isak’s chest that he couldn’t stop from slipping past his lips and filling the air around them. He would’ve clapped a hand over his mouth to stop it had his hand not been trapped between his own chest and Even’s, but suddenly the melodious tune of Even’s laughter was mingling with Isak’s. The sound of it filled Isak’s ears and he was hit with the overwhelming realization of just how much he loved making Even laugh or smile like this. It felt so much better than trying to get a rise out of him. Even had the brightest smile that curled his lips and showed off his teeth and crinkled the skin around his eyes— it was so much nicer than the frown Isak had seen far too often.

When their laughter started to subside, it left them gazing into each other’s eyes, soft smiles adorning both of their faces. There was something intense in Even’s gaze as he stared down at Isak, and it made Isak’s heart skip a beat (or twelve) in his chest. His mind was racing, his thoughts stirring wildly as all of these  _ feelings _ suddenly flooded through him, and he was so lost in them, so lost in figuring out what it all meant, that he didn’t even register the way Even’s nose was suddenly bumping against his own, or the way that Even’s fingers were trailing over his jaw until Even’s lips were on his again, kissing him softly, yet with such conviction that all the breath was knocked out his lungs.

Isak brought his arms up to wrap loosely around Even’s neck and he buried his fingers deep into the roots of Even’s hair. Even started to grind his hips down into Isak’s and  _ god _ , it felt so fucking good. Each roll had Even pressing his groin right into Isak’s, bringing a delicious pressure that had Isak fattening up in his shorts in no time. If Even kept this up, Isak was sure he would come from it, but he didn't want to— he wanted to get his hands on Even. 

Reluctantly, Isak broke the kiss, earning a confused whine from Even. His lips chased after Isak’s, so Isak turned his face away to prevent himself from recapturing Even in a kiss and drawing him back in. 

“Even, Even,” Isak murmured, pressing a hand against his chest to stop him. Even’s hips stuttered to a halt and he looked down at Isak with a curious gaze. “I want…let me touch you, I want to touch you.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Even whined, nodding his head eagerly. 

Isak pushed Even off of him, and he didn’t waste another second before he straddled Even’s thighs, placing his palm over Even’s heart. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another against his jaw, and a third to his neck. Isak continued kissing down Even’s body until he was sitting between Even’s legs, which had automatically spread the closer Isak got between them. 

Looking up at Even through his eyelashes, Isak hooked his fingers into the waistband of Even’s shorts and the spandex underneath (he didn’t have boxers on this time, Isak took note) and slowly started to drag them down his thighs. Even’s dick sprang free from his shorts, and Isak licked his lips as he watched it twitch under his gaze. As much as he wanted to get his mouth on it, however, he had something a little different in mind. Ignoring Even’s dick, Isak discarded the clothes over the edge of the bed and placed his a hand on each of Even’s thighs. He bent down and pressed a kiss to the inside of Even’s left thigh, then he nudged them apart more and let his fingers tread closer to Even’s rim. 

“Is this okay?” Isak asked, his gaze flickering from Even’s groin up to his eyes.

Even’s eager affirmation encouraged Isak to shift on his knees and prepare to settle himself onto his stomach in between Even’s legs so that he had easier access to him, but before he could, he realized that he was missing something. 

“Shit, the lube’s in my bag,” he cursed, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where his bag was lying a little bit past the foot of the bed. 

Below him, Even lifted himself up onto his elbows and shot Isak a teasing glance. “You brought lube?” 

Isak didn’t miss the smugness behind his voice, but he rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the heat that was rushing to his cheeks. What could he say? He liked to be prepared.

“Like you don’t have some in your bag, too,” he responded incredulously. 

The corners of Even’s lips turned down in a contemplative pout as he lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. “I didn’t want to assume…” he trailed off.

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. You knew you were going to get your hands on me,” Isak retorted, pursing his lips at Even. 

“Mm, and I’d love it if you’d hurry the fuck up and get  _ your  _ hands on  _ me _ ,” Even replied, flicking his eyebrows up at Isak before pointedly looking towards his groin as if to refocus Isak’s attention on their current activities. 

And right. Lube. 

Isak let his eyes linger on Even as he shot him a finger gun, and in his haste to sit up so he could find the lube, he ended up scooting back— completely forgetting that he was already sitting on the edge of the bed— and he promptly fell right onto his ass and knocked his elbow hard against the floor.

“Ow, fuck,” Isak groaned from the floor, slowly sitting up and rubbing at his elbow. 

He could hear Even’s laughter coming from above him, and Isak almost couldn’t make out the  _ hit, are you okay? _ Even asked because of it. 

“This wasn’t how I pictured getting bruised, if I’m being honest,” Isak grumbled. He ignored Even’s snort and reached for his bag, unzipping it so he could start rifling through the clothes and toiletries he’d thrown in there for the small bottle of lube he’d packed just in case. 

When Isak’s fingers finally closed around the bottle, he pulled it from where it was sitting at the bottom of the bag and lifted it in the air so Even could see. He pushed the bag away and stood up, rubbing at his ass where he’d landed on it before he focused his attention back on Even— who was lying on the bed, his legs spread wide as he waited for Isak to get back to it. He had a lazy smile on his face and one hand was treading dangerously close to his cock, as if he was getting too impatient to wait. 

Isak lowered himself onto his stomach, ignoring the way his dick was suddenly pressed into the mattress, and swatted at Even’s hand. He flicked open the cap of the lube so he could pour a generous amount onto his fingers and rubbed them together to try and warm it a bit before he brought one finger up to slowly trace around Even’s rim. 

Even let out a soft gasp as Isak’s finger circled his entrance, and it only urged Isak on more. He dipped down to brush his lips across Even’s inner thigh before pressing a few wet kisses to the soft skin there. Isak parted his lips and closed his teeth gently over the skin right as he carefully pushed one finger past the tight band of muscle.

Again, Isak heard Even suck in a sharp breath and the breathy moan that slipped past his lips next went straight to Isak’s dick. He could feel the way Even’s hole was clenching around his finger, getting used to the sudden intrusion. Isak was content to continue kissing across Even’s thigh as he waited for Even to adjust. 

“Shit, Isak, move,” Even panted, and he started to wiggle his hips a little bit so that Isak got the hint. 

Isak was quick to oblige and pushed his finger in up to the third knuckle. He crooked it and then began sliding it in and out, relishing the sounds he was drawing out of Even. The boy wasn’t holding back, and every time Isak hit a particular spot or found just the right angle, Even wasn't afraid to let him know how good it felt. 

Eventually, Isak added a second finger, and as he pushed it in Even threw his head back against the pillows, his mouth falling slack as a silent moan wracked through his body. Isak could see Even’s chest rising and falling frantically as he worked his fingers inside of him. His dick was lying heavy against his stomach leaking pre-come, and Isak wanted nothing more than to get his lips around the tip and taste.

“More…” Even groaned, his fingers scrabbling against the sheets below him. “Fuck, fuck, gimme another Isak. I can take another, please,” he practically begged. And, well, Isak wasn't about to say no to that— not when Even was so responsive to him, making the prettiest sounds that had Isak pushing his own hips harder into the bed below him just to find a bit of relief.

Isak could feel Even’s body quivering underneath him as he tightened his grip on Even’s thigh and thrust his fingers in at a quicker pace. He leaned down to kiss a line from the inner crease of his groin to just above his kneecap. Isak didn't know what it was— he’d never really considered himself as someone with a  _ thing _ for thighs, but Even’s just looked too damn good, so soft and milky, so strong and smooth, that he couldn't help himself. He sucked bruise after bruise into Even’s thighs, reveling in the way that it had Even panting. Even's fingers found their way into Isak’s hair, tugging harshly on the strands as he writhed against the sheets and whined long and high.

Even let out a loud shout as Isak started pounding his fingers into him harder, and he clutched at the duvet so tightly that his knuckles went white. It only took a few more thrusts before Isak’s fingers brushed against Even’s prostate, causing him to tense up and scream out, his orgasm hitting him so hard that come shot all the way up to his chin.

After Isak pulled his fingers out, he wiped them on the duvet and crawled back up Even’s body. Even’s hands were grabbing at him— touching at any part of him they could reach— and pulling Isak against him so that he could smush their lips together again. Isak fell into the kiss and threw a leg over Even’s hips so he was straddling him, their chests pressed together. 

“Fuck, that was so good,” Even murmured against Isak’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Isak asked, pulling back so he could look into Even’s eyes. Even’s responding nod was genuine and eager and Isak couldn’t help but bend down to kiss him again. God, he could do this all day.

Well, he  _ could _ , if there wasn’t come currently cooling between their bodies, sticking to their chests already. 

It seemed as though Even had a similar train of thought as his eyes dropped to his chest and his nose scrunched up in disgust. “We should, uh, probably clean this up,” he commented, pointing at the mess between them. 

Isak laughed softly and stretched his arm over the side of the bed to grab the first piece of fabric his fingers closed around. He lifted Even’s spandex up and started to wipe at Even’s chest and down his stomach, then he dragged it down his own front. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a shower,” Even laughed. “I mean, with all of this,” he gestured down, “and we just played a game so,” he shrugged, letting his suggestion trail off. 

“Oh, yeah, a shower sounds great,” Isak agreed, moving to slide off of Even’s lap. 

 

Ten minutes later found Isak and Even pressed together under the hot stream of water, now clean, but connected at the lips and the hips once more. Isak had his arms thrown around Even’s neck while Even’s were resting against the lower dip of his back, pulling him closer. 

Isak didn’t think he’d ever been this content to just kiss someone. Maybe he just felt like this when he was with Even— a thought that both scared and excited him. He loved the way Even’s lips seemed to fit so perfectly with his own; the way Even could bruise Isak’s lips from the force behind his kisses, yet be so soft with him the next second; the way that Even always left him feeling woozy and love drunk— not that he loved him or anything, that would just be… that would be completely ridiculous.  

Even’s leg pushed its way between Isak’s thighs, pressing up against his dick, and Isak immediately started to grind against it. He felt Even laugh against his lips while one of his hands snaked down to grip Isak’s dick. Isak thrusted into it and moaned into his mouth as Even started to drag his palm over the length of him. 

At this point they weren’t even really kissing anymore. Their lips were still together, but they were mostly just panting into each other’s mouths— Even too focused on bringing Isak to orgasm and Isak too focused on every little touch of Even’s hand. 

Heat curled in his belly and he could feel his orgasm fast approaching— it wouldn’t be long before it crashed into him full force and left him shaking in Even’s arms. 

Before he could give into the pleasure tugging at him, however, the sound of the bathroom door opening snapped him out of his reverie, and his head jerked towards the shower curtain. 

“Isak?” Jonas’s voice called out, followed by the sound of the toilet lid lifting and a zip.

Isak’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and his gaze flew up to meet Even’s only to find his eyes sparkling with mirth. He shot Even a dark warning look that said  _ make a sound and I’ll cut your dick off _ . 

“Uh, Jonas? I thought you were getting a drink with the guys?” Isak asked, wincing at the way his voice came out rough and shaky.

The sound of liquid splashing against the toilet bowl suddenly filled the room and Isak grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead against Even’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, we just got a beer— didn’t want to go overboard or anything,” Jonas responded. 

“Oh, got it,” Isak said slowly. His mind was racing a mile a minute though, because if the team was done at the bar that meant that Jonas probably wasn’t going back down there— he was probably staying here in the room— which, fuck. How the hell was Isak supposed to get Even out of here if Jonas was in the room? There was no way he was letting Jonas find out about Even and the thing Isak had going on with him.  _ Especially _ not since Jonas was already onto him about his feelings. This would just bring on a conversation he definitely did not want to have right now— Isak was perfectly content not doing anything about the feelings he was almost positive Even didn’t return. (Although the lines were beginning to blur, and if Isak were being honest, he had no idea where Even’s feelings were at this point). Before he could ask, though, Jonas barreled on.

“Man, Isak, you should’ve been there. It was such a good time— even Chris and William weren’t acting like dicks,” Jonas raved. Then he launched into a story about something funny that happened involving Magnus and the bartender, but Isak had stopped listening the second he felt Even’s hand start to tug at his dick again.

His eyes flew up to Even’s, a wild panic in them, and he shook his head immediately, trying to get Even to stop. But Even just smirked back at Isak and picked up the pace of his hand. Isak bit down hard on his lip to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from him, and sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. 

The toilet suddenly flushed and Isak felt the tiniest bit of relief because that meant that Jonas was leaving soon, but of course Even decided to twist his hand  _ just so _ and Isak couldn’t stop the squeak that slipped out. 

“Isak?” Jonas asked carefully, his voice hesitant and full of trepidation. 

Isak’s breathing was coming out uneven now and despite how hard he tried to control it, he couldn’t. Not to mention he was almost positive that the sounds of Even’s hand on him could be heard outside of the shower. “Y-yeah?” He choked out, wincing at how broken his voice sounded.

“Are you….” Jonas paused. “Are you jerking off in there?” 

“Yep, totally, absolutely. Just jerking off, definitely,” Isak sputtered out, gasping in a breath as Even’s thumb slid over the tip. He might have gone a bit overboard with the confirmation, but he just hoped that it would get Jonas to leave faster. 

Unfortunately, Jonas must not have found it as awkward as Isak thought he would, because suddenly the sound of the running sink filled Isak’s ears.

Even took the opportunity to tighten his fist around Isak’s dick, and he dropped the hand that had been resting on Isak’s ass down further. Isak’s breath hitched as he felt Even’s finger push between his cheeks and circle his rim.

Isak tried his very best to hold it together, he really did. His breathing was coming out completely ragged and he was absolutely helpless to the sounds being pulled out of him. Of fucking course his body decided to betray him the moment he felt Even’s finger catch on his rim, and the fact that Jonas was still in the room (why the hell was he still in here?) was lost to him as he gave himself over to pleasure. He bit down hard on Even’s shoulder and spilled into his hand with a muffled cry.

The fingers that had been digging into Even’s back slackened and Isak’s entire body sagged against Even’s. He was still shaking and his mind was so far away that he didn’t register Jonas’s “Fuck, I’m going to take a nap and pretend this never happened” or the slamming of the door that followed.

The second the door clicked shut, Even burst out laughing, and Isak had snapped out of his daze enough to clap a hand over Even’s mouth. Even’s eyes were crinkled at the corners (the way Isak loved) as he looked down at Isak, and Isak shot him a warning look. 

“You fucking asshole!” he hissed quietly. “You just… I just…  _ fuck _ . I just fucking came in front of my best friend,” Isak stated, the disbelief and horror clear in his voice. “You fucking asshole!” he repeated, pushing at Even’s chest. 

Even just chuckled and reached up to push Isak’s wet hair from where it had fallen into his eyes. “I think that was pretty fucking funny,” he grinned.

Isak groaned and shook his head. “I hate you so much, oh my god,” he whined, but there was no heat behind his words— only a soft sort of fondness. “You’re the fucking worst.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fact that he’d been able to keep this thing with Even under wraps for nearly four months now had Isak feeling giddy and, quite frankly, a bit untouchable. Not even his best friends had found out— which was pretty damn impressive considering how nosy and invested in his personal life they were. 
> 
> Of course that had to all come crashing down, because that’s just how the pattern worked, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! Chapter 7 has come a day early!!   
> I'm posting today instead of Thursday because on Thursday I'll be posting two (2) new fics!! I really hope you all will read _both_ of them!  <3  
> Also, I'm going to try my very very very best to have chapter 8 finished by posting date on Sunday, but I'm not going to promise anything because I only have like 100 words written for it so far. I have the entire chapter planned out though so it's really just down to the words and my brain working together to do the sentence and paragraph thing fdaghdfl. So if I don't update on Sunday, I apologize in advance and if I don't have it done by then, I'll be posting progress reports on tumblr (which is linked in the end notes) if any of you are curious! 
> 
> Anwayyysss, here's chapter 7!! Enjoy!! <33

Isak had never thought of himself as a particularly sneaky person. Sure, he’d managed to hide his porn collection from his parents the entire time he’d lived with them, but it had taken one person asking to borrow his phone to make a call for that record to go to shit. Not to mention every other time he tried to hide something it always ended up coming out one way or another. 

Sneaking Even out of the hotel room after they’d fooled around the day of the Vålerenga game had been stressful— they had to wait in the bathroom for nearly a half  hour while Jonas fell asleep before they could tip toe out. Isak had shoved Even’s clothes at him— barely letting him put them on— before practically pushing him out the door with a somewhat apologetic expression on his face. But he’d managed to do it without waking Jonas, thus keeping his secret another day.

The fact that he’d been able to keep this  _ thing _ with Even under wraps for nearly four months now had Isak feeling giddy and, quite frankly, a bit untouchable. Not even his best friends had found out— which was pretty damn impressive considering how nosy and invested in his personal life they were. 

Of course that had to all come crashing down, because that’s just how the pattern worked, wasn’t it?

 

“Ugh,” Isak grumbled, tossing the plastic container full of bland looking green leaves onto the table in front of him before sliding into his waiting chair. 

Jonas snorted and forked another bite of his own salad— which looked much more appetizing than Isak’s. “You do realize you don’t have to eat that, right?” He asked, raising a brow in Isak’s direction.

“We’re supposed to be eating healthy, Jonas. Salads are healthy,” Isak retorted, rolling his eyes as he popped the corners of the container open and discarded the lid. He stared down at the pile of spinach and wrinkled his nose. At least this one had bits of grilled chicken, an assortment of vegetables, and a light side dressing on it.

Mahdi gestured towards the turkey wrap he was currently holding. “Salads aren’t the only healthy thing, bro.”

Magnus nodded his agreement and tore off another bite of his sandwich. “Yeah, I don’t understand why you insist on always getting the same thing and then complain about it every time,” he pointed out.

“Why don’t you get the fish next time?” Jonas suggested, and Isak made a disgusted face right away.

“You know I hate fish,” Isak retaliated, giving Jonas a pointed look. “And I hate all these fucking restrictions. I just want to eat a fucking kebab— just one— is that too much to fucking ask?”

It was if the kebab gods had been listening in on his complaints, because not even a second later a paper basket full of steaming, fucking delicious looking kebab was sliding onto the table top. Isak gaped down at it for a second before he spun in his seat to see who the fuck had just answered all of his prayers. 

When he turned around, his eyes were met with none other than fucking Even, and he couldn’t stop them from rolling and a scoff from passing his lips. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Isak blurted, earning a kick to the shin and a pair of narrowed eyes from Jonas. 

“Halla boys,” Even greeted cheerfully, ignoring Isak and pulling out the chair right next to him before settling himself into it.

“Again— what the fuck is he doing here?” Isak repeated, extending his gaze around the table, waiting for someone to answer him. Usually whenever they went out to lunch it was just the four of them— they’d never extended the invitation to anyone else, especially not Even.

And, he didn’t really mind, per se. In fact, he kind of enjoyed that he was able to spend some time with Even. Though, being in the presence of his friends made it impossibly hard. Having to force himself to act like he still hated Even— because let’s be real, he definitely didn’t hate Even anymore— to make snide comments and sneer and pretend he didn’t want to jump Even and kiss the hell out of him right then and there, well, it was hard.

“We invited him to lunch,” Mahdi answered casually, as if it were no big deal— which, in reality it really wasn’t, but Isak wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. “We figured you were mature enough to behave yourself for a few hours, Isak,” he added, shooting Isak a look. 

Isak threw his arms up and his mouth fell open at Mahdi’s comment. “Um, excuse me, I don’t  _ misbehave _ ,” he snapped, an affronted tone to his voice.

Mahdi just snorted and gave Isak a disbelieving look before he went back to his turkey wrap. 

Grinding his teeth together to keep himself from arguing, Isak turned back to his salad and stabbed a few leaves a bit too aggressively before shoving them into his mouth, chewing forcefully. He knew that if he tried to argue he’d only be going against Mahdi’s assumption that he could behave himself— which he could, thank you very much. He wasn't an animal.

Even reached forward and pulled his kebab basket towards himself, then picked up his fork to scoop up his first bite and bring it to his lips. Isak watched him with narrowed eyes, and his initial anger towards Even crashing their lunch was quickly replaced with an even stronger outrage towards the fact that Even was currently chowing down on a kebab— a clearly unhealthy meal choice for a professional football player. 

“Okay, why the fuck do you have a kebab?” Isak blurted, interrupting the conversation that had started up. “Where the fuck is your salad?” 

The forkful of kebab paused halfway up to Even’s mouth, and he quirked an eyebrow at Isak. “I have a kebab because I enjoy eating kebabs,” he answered simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. The boys all laughed at the answer which only added fuel to the furious flames licking at Isak’s insides. Even just shrugged and finished taking the bite he’d been about to eat. 

“Salads aren’t really my thing,” Even added, answering Isak’s previous question (that he might have forgotten he’d even asked.)

“You don’t eat salads?” Isak repeated dumbly. “What, do you only eat kebab or something?” He joked, rolling his eyes at Even. 

Even just shrugged his shoulders again and tilted his head in a half nod that had Isak’s mouth dropping open yet again. 

“You only eat kebab. You’re serious?” 

“Yeah. I mean, not  _ only _ , but I eat it quite often,” Even answered, taking another bite. “I’m not going to deprive myself of my favorite food,” he laughed.

And,  _ what the fuck _ . Of fucking course Even would be able to eat things like kebabs all the fucking time and still keep an impeccable figure— and trust Isak, he knew that figure was impeccable, he’d been up close and personal with it more times than he could count by now. (Just thinking about it made him blush  _ even more _ .) If Isak were to eat kebab all the time there was no way he’d be able to keep up on the field the way Even did. Frankly, it wasn’t fucking fair. 

At Isak’s following silence, Even took the opportunity to jump back into the conversation. “So, the semifinal game— how fucking amazing was that?” 

The table erupted into chatter about the game, everyone trying to talk over each other as they recounted the exciting happenings, but Isak wasn’t really paying attention. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Even after that, no matter how hard he tried. Isak was thankful that his friends seemed too busy comparing stats on different players from the other teams left in Cupen that they didn’t bother to try and bring him into the conversation.

Isak’s eyes tracked the movement of Even’s fork and the way his mouth opened wide and his lips closed around it, sucking the bite off of the prongs. His Adam’s apple bobbed harshly as he swallowed, and an onslaught of flashbacks from the day Even had sucked him off in the locker room were suddenly playing through his mind like an old home video. All he could picture was that very same pair of lips in every filthy way imaginable— the way they’d looked smeared with his precome, the way they’d looked closing over the tip of his dick, the way they’d been so puffy and pink when he’d popped off.

Quickly, Isak shook himself out of his stupor and tore his eyes away from Even’s mouth. He brought his gaze back up to Even’s eyes only to find them already looking right at him, a tiny smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Isak felt his cheeks heat up at that, but he couldn’t ignore the way his pants felt tighter or the sudden urge to jump Even’s bones that washed over him.

Even was still looking directly at Isak as he brought his fork back up to his mouth, this time exaggerating the way he took the bite from the fork. He chewed it agonizingly slowly, making sure to hollow his cheeks and round his lips overdramatically. When he finally swallowed it down, his tongue poked out of his mouth and slid across his lips teasingly. 

He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch, to wipe the bits of kebab sauce from the corners of Even’s lips (or kiss it away) and he almost did— thankfully he managed to catch himself before that happened. Isak clenched his jaw and made sure he still had Even’s eye contact before he flickered his own in the direction of the bathrooms. He lifted his eyebrows, asking Even a silent question.

The smirk on Even’s lips just grew and he gave a tiny nod in return.

“Oh, shit, I’ve uh, got to take this,” Even said suddenly, pulling his phone from his pocket and waving it through the air. 

“Wait— your phone isn’t even ringing!” Magnus pointed out, his eyebrows furrowing, and Isak bit down on his lip to hold back his laugh at Even’s poorly executed exit plan.

Even glanced down at his phone and tilted the screen away from the boys. “Vibrate,” he responded half-heartedly before excusing himself from the table. He lifted the phone to his ear and stalked off in the direction of the bathrooms.

“What the fuck just happened?” Magnus squawked, turning back towards the rest of the boys, an incredulous look covering his face. 

“I don’t fucking know,” Mahdi responded, letting out a laugh. “That was weird as hell, though— his phone totally wasn't vibrating. And he didn't even hit answer when he left.”

“You’re right, that was definitely weird, and as much as I’d love to sit and chat about it, I’ve got to use the bathroom, so I’ll be right back,” Isak declared, tapping his hand on top of the table.

As he stood up from his seat, he didn't miss the suspicious look Jonas was sending him, and Isak felt his stomach somersault. Trying to ignore the fact that Jonas seemed to be onto him, Isak hurried down through the restaurant towards the bathrooms. 

The second he pushed the door open Even practically pounced on him, his fingers coming up to grasp at the front of Isak’s shirt and pull him in. Their lips met in a hasty kiss, and Isak shoved one of his hands into Even’s hair, the other holding the side of Even’s neck. 

“You’re so fucking frustrating,” Isak muttered into Even’s mouth, earning a laugh from Even. 

Even pulled away and peppered a few kisses all over Isak’s face— one to his temple, another to his nose, a few scattered across his cheeks, and another to the corner of Isak’s lips. 

Isak scrunched his nose up and pushed at Even’s chest to get him to stop. He couldn't help the way his pout curved into a smile as his eyes met Even’s and found a matching one on Even’s face. 

“I’m frustrating?” Even asked, a teasing tone to his voice. “Me?” He questioned and glanced behind him dramatically, as if looking for another person Isak could be talking about. 

Isak let out a huff and tugged on a piece of Even’s hair. “Yes you,” he said, starting to walk Even backwards until his back hit the wall of one of the stalls. Isak pushed the lock into place on the stall door behind him before focusing his attention back on Even. He crowded him against the wall, stepping into his space, and he leaned in close to Even’s ear. Isak gently bit down on his earlobe before brushing his lips against the shell of Even’s ear. “You fucking taste like kebab,” he whispered. Even barked out a laugh, but Isak cut him off by recapturing his lips in another hot kiss.

The kiss was bruising and intense and passionate and Isak couldn't get enough. His hand was fisted in the front of Even’s shirt and his leg was pushed in between Even’s. He could feel the outline of Even’s hard dick against his thigh, and that was all it took before Isak was tearing his lips from Even’s and dropping to his knees right in front of him.

He fumbled at the button of Even’s jeans for a second before he popped them open and tugged the zipper down. Isak didn't waste time trying to make it slow or sensual or tease Even. He just yanked his jeans and boxers down in one go and closed his fist around Even’s dick right away.

Above him, Even let out a sharp hiss at the contact and his fingers immediately found their way into Isak’s hair, pulling harshly at the strands. 

Isak jerked his hand over Even’s dick a few times before he leaned forward and closed his lips around the head. He spent a few seconds teasing Even by swirling his tongue over it, just lapping at the precome collecting on the tip.

Even’s fingers were clenching and unclenching in his hair (definitely fucking up his hairdo) and the sounds that were coming from him were already so obscene. His head was tipped back against the wall, his hips pushed forward, twitching as he tried to hold himself back from thrusting into Isak’s mouth. 

Isak grabbed onto Even’s hip to hold him into place, and he lowered his mouth down Even’s dick even more, taking a few more inches in. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, then began to bob his head frantically.

It wasn't the cleanest blowjob he’d ever given, nor was it the most technically savvy, but that wasn't very important. Even seemed to be enjoying it and that was all that mattered. 

In fact, Even was enjoying it so much that Isak only had to swallow around Even twice more before he was letting out a loud cry, his whole body tensing as he came into Isak’s mouth. 

Isak sucked Even through his orgasm, twirling his tongue around the head as Even returned to his senses. He slipped off of Even’s dick with a  _ pop _ and shakily rose to his feet, offering Even a lopsided smile.

“Fuck, you're so good at that,” Even groaned, pulling Isak back against his chest. His lips closed over Isak’s, and Isak’s eyes fell shut as he let himself melt into the kiss. 

Reluctantly, Isak finally pulled away from the kiss, and Even bent over to tug his boxers and jeans back into place. Once everything was situated they exited the stall and headed for the sinks. Isak stared at his reflection while he washed his hands, and he couldn't help the snort he let out.

“The boys are probably wondering where we disappeared to,” Even commented, laughing softly. 

Isak, on the other hand, winced. He already knew that the second he returned he’d be bombarded with questions— especially considering the state he was in. His hair was completely disheveled, and no matter how much he tried to fix it nothing was working. Then there were his lips, which were undeniably swollen and so red— it wouldn't be hard for his friends to guess what he’d just been doing. 

“Fuck, we can't go back out there together,” Isak said, leaning against the sink. 

“I can go out first,” Even offered. “I have to go anyways, so I’ll say something came up in my phone call.” 

“The phone call,” Isak laughed. “God that was the worst ruse ever. I'm pretty sure they saw right through it.”

Even just shrugged. “Whatever. They'd make up a bullshit excuse like that too if it led to them getting the blowjob of their life.” 

“The blowjob of your life?” Isak repeated incredulously, his eyebrows raising. “Did you just call that the blowjob of your life?”

Even nodded. “I did. It was.” 

“Even! That wasn’t even my best. That was so messy and rushed,” Isak exclaimed.

“I like messy,” Even replied, grinning back at Isak. 

“God, you're ridiculous,” Isak huffed, shaking his head at Even.

“Alright, I’m going to head out now, I’ll see you later,” Even said, darting forward to peck Isak’s cheek before he gave him a wave and disappeared out the door. 

Isak waited a few more minutes before he made his own exit and headed back towards the table. 

The second the boys saw him Isak felt his cheeks warming up already. He knew what he looked like, and he knew the boys saw it too. 

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” Magnus blurted, barking out a laugh as Isak slid back into his seat. 

Isak trained his eyes on the table, purposely avoiding the curious stares of his friends. A long stretch of awkward silence fell across the table until Isak let out a resigned sigh. “Jesus Christ, just say it.”

“Are you fucking Even?” Magnus questioned, barely letting Isak finish his sentence. 

Isak finally looked up from the table to see all of his friends staring at him with expectant faces as they waited for his answer. The illogical part of his brain was telling him to deny deny deny, but the logical part ended up winning out— after all, if he tried to lie his friends would only find out eventually, it was in their nature. So Isak just gave a helpless shrug and bit down on his lip to hold back the smile that threatened to take over his face. (Why he felt giddy over the fact that he was fucking Even was beyond him— okay no it wasn’t— being with Even like that always put him in the best mood, especially ever since the sex had gotten less rough and a lot sweeter).

“Oh my god,  _ I fucking knew it _ !” Magnus exclaimed.

“I thought you hated him!” Mahdi added, confusion pulling at his features.

“I… do…” Isak responded, although even to his ears it didn’t sound very convincing.

“How long has this been going on?” Mahdi asked immediately, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uh, four-ish months,” Isak answered, wincing as a murmur went through the boys.

“ _ Four months _ ?” Jonas repeated. “Wait— Isak. If you've been hooking up with Even for the past four months… that means you weren't jerking off in the shower last week were you?” He asked slowly, his face twisting up as he waited for the answer he already knew. 

Isak offered Jonas a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah, no. I wasn’t. Even was in there with me,” he confirmed. 

Jonas squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Fuck, I did not need to know that,” he said.

“Hang on— so if you and Even are fucking does that mean you don't hate each other anymore?” Magnus asked.

“No no no, just because I’m fucking him doesn’t mean I don’t hate him. Because I do. Hate him, I mean. I definitely hate him. There are like, no feelings involved here. Zero. Absolutely none,” Isak answered. In hindsight, he probably should have stopped after the first  _ no _ — it was bad enough that there was no conviction behind his words— but of course, he had to keep running his mouth. 

“Oh my god,” Jonas started, and Isak began shaking his head immediately because he already knew exactly what Jonas was going to say next. “You like him, don’t you?” 

“I do not. Jonas,  _ no _ , I don’t,” Isak responded immediately, still shaking his head. 

Jonas crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Isak with a pointed look. “Uh huh, sure,” he said, sounding completely unconvinced. 

And, it’s not like Isak was lying. He didn’t have feelings for Even, no way. That would be ridiculous. He just liked having sex with him— it was nothing more than that. The fact that he enjoyed the way Even would brush his fingers delicately over his face, or sweep the hair from his eyes, or how Even would smile that beautiful smile down at him before capturing his lips in the softest kiss… that meant nothing. Really. Isak had no problem if Even wanted to fuck other people— if he wanted to  _ date _ someone. It wouldn’t bother him since he clearly didn’t have feelings for Even. What a absurd accusation. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Isak had feelings for Even.
> 
> The realization hadn’t been some sort of sudden, jaw dropping, heart stopping lightning strike to his soul. (Okay so his heart _may_ have started pumping at a dangerous speed and it _may_ have skipped more beats than considered safe, but that was beside the point.) Rather, it had been something that he’d been subconsciously aware of for a while now, but had been too afraid to address outright. Instead, he buried it away deep inside of himself to avoid facing the truth of it. 
> 
> But try as he might, the longer he and Even kept fooling around, the harder it got for Isak to attempt to push down the feelings that kept clawing at his heart every time he was with Even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it!!!! Chapter 8 is here!! I spent basically the last three days doing nothing but writing it because I really really wanted to get it done in time! This chapter ended up being about 2k longer than all of the other chapters which I'm kind of proud about since I wrote it so last minute lol. Buut I really like how it turned out (it might be my favorite chapter I've written for this fic so far) so I hope all of you like it as well! 
> 
> Also, big big shoutout to Im_a_bird because you commented with the idea of the boys seeing the marks Isak gave Even in the locker room and that was fucking brilliant and was exactly the scene I needed to connect two parts I had and to get me over my block for this chapter, so thank you so so much. This chapter is dedicated to you <3
> 
> Another shoutout to Sarah, peep the brolliny, just for you bb :HAE <3
> 
> Annnnd one last special shoutout to my beta Sarah, who is an absolute goddess and managed to look over this chapter for me even though I gave it to her so sooo last minute. I love you Sarah you're the best <33
> 
> As you all must know, I don't have chapter 9 written either lol (or 10 for that matter) so again, I'm going to try my best to get 9 finished by Thursday, but again, no promises! I'll continue doing progress updates on tumblr if any of you saw those lol 
> 
> Now, without further ado, chapter 8! Enjoy!

So, Isak had feelings for Even.

The realization hadn’t been some sort of sudden, jaw dropping, heart stopping lightning strike to his soul. (Okay so his heart  _ may _ have started pumping at a dangerous speed and it  _ may _ have skipped more beats than considered safe, but that was beside the point.) Rather, it had been something that he’d been subconsciously aware of for a while now, but had been too afraid to address outright. Instead, he buried it away deep inside of himself to avoid facing the truth of it. 

But try as he might, the longer he and Even kept fooling around, the harder it got for Isak to attempt to push down the feelings that kept clawing at his heart every time he was with Even.

It didn’t help that each new time they hooked up, what had started out as angry sex became less and less angry. Tight grips turned to gentle embraces. Rough touches to tender caresses. Clashing mouths to sweet kisses. Harsh growls to affectionate encouragements. It was fucking with Isak in the worst way possible. 

Despite the fact that Isak knew exactly how  _ he  _ felt, he was still flying completely blind in this because he had  _ no idea _ where Even stood. Sure, Even started smiling more towards Isak, but it was a hungry, wolfish smile— one that told Isak that he wanted to jump his bones at any given second. And yes, whenever they were alone together the harsh insults he usually directed towards Isak were replaced with teasing banter and sometimes even compliments (though those usually came whilst in the throes of sex), but Isak didn’t know what any of it meant.

If Isak were being honest, though, this not knowing was frustrating him even more than the back and forth changes in his attitude. He was starting to grow tired of second guessing every touch, questioning every glance, keeping his guard up towards every smile. 

The following week after Isak disclosed that he and Even were sleeping together, his friends would not shut up about it. In fact, they brought it up to tease Isak so much that he had been genuinely afraid that everyone on the team would find out, which would  _ completely _ fuck things up. If the whole team were to find out, Isak was sure that would be the last straw for Even. It would give him a real reason to hate Isak, and  _ god _ , that was the last thing he wanted.

Not only was the heckling obvious, it also wasn’t helping Isak with his newly admitted feelings. Every quip and jest sent his mind into overdrive, picturing what it would be like to get teased by his friends for  _ actually _ being with Even, rather than for hopelessly pining after him. 

 

The day before every single game they played, Coach Anders always held a practice at the game day field in which the team spent the entire ninety minutes scrimmaging, focusing on working the kinks out of their plays, honing their specific skills, and getting used to the new field. 

Isak dropped his bag onto the bench in the guest locker room of Komplett Arena, the home field of Sandfjorde— their competitors for tomorrow’s match. He rolled his eyes and started to unzip his bag as Magnus pestered him with question after question about Even. Isak was trying his hardest to ignore them, but found that he was having a hard time doing so when Magnus was asking oddly specific questions about Even’s bedroom habits, like  _ Is he loud? I bet he’s a screamer _ and  _ How big is his dick? _ and Isak’s personal favorite:  _ Did he top or bottom? _

“Magnus,” Isak sighed exasperatedly, pulling his practice jersey from his bag. “First of all, we haven’t even had, like,  _ sex _ sex yet. And second, even if we had, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be telling you all the horny details. You’re too invested in this, Jesus fucking Christ. Get a hobby or something.” 

“You haven’t fucked?” Magnus squawked, completely ignoring everything else Isak said. 

Isak shook his head, laughing humorlessly as he pulled his shirt over his head. “No, Magnus, we have not. And this conversation is over now,” he said sternly, shooting Magnus a warning look. 

“But—” 

“ _ No _ ,” Isak reiterated, rolling his eyes again at Magnus’s persistence. 

Thankfully, the rest of the team started to filter into the locker room and Magnus was smart enough to shut his mouth—  _ finally _ . 

Of course the silence didn’t last very long. Only instead of hassling Isak, Magnus had turned to Even, who was standing there shirtless— his sweats slung low on his hips as he tapped away on his phone. 

“Shit, Even,” Magnus exclaimed, catching Even’s attention and causing him to lift his head up and put his phone down. 

A look of confusion passed over his face and he quirked a brow at Magnus. “What’s up, Mags?” He asked curiously.

“You look like you’ve had a good time recently,” Magnus responded, a knowing smirk sliding onto his face as he nodded towards the finger shaped bruises scattered over Even’s hips. 

“A good time?” Chris chimed in, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. He clapped a hand onto Even’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before he pointed at a very obvious bite mark that stood out against the pale skin of his other shoulder. “This looks like more than just a good time. Good for you, bro.”

Isak’s eyes widened and he quickly turned his back to Even, willing the blush that was rising to his cheeks to go away. Next to him, Jonas snorted, and Isak pointedly ignored it. 

“Oh ho ho,” William trilled, his features twisting up into a slimy, lecherous expression. “Our boy here likes it rough, eh?” He goaded, patting Even’s back. “Did you pull her hair too? No, wait, maybe she pulled  _ yours _ . I bet you’re into that, huh? You’ve got the bruises to prove it— the fucking  _ bite mark _ , damn Even.”

Chris cackled and shook Even by his shoulders. “You’re one kinky bastard, aren’t you?” He hooted. 

Glancing over his shoulder briefly, Isak caught the uncomfortable expression that crossed Even’s face, but he turned away before Even could catch his eye. 

“So?” William asked next, flashing Even an expectant look. “Was she any good? Wait— who was she?” He asked insolently.

“He, actually,” Even responded, the bitter tone in his voice hard to miss— though Isak was sure Chris and William wouldn’t pick up on it. 

Isak’s breath hitched at the correction, his entire body freezing up. His heart started hammering in his chest and he waited for Even to continue explaining. He’d been sure that Even wouldn’t want the entire team to know about them, and frankly, Isak wasn’t even sure if  _ he _ wanted that yet— and Even sure as hell hadn’t bothered to ask for his input.

But before Isak could start worrying about how the rest of the team would take the news that he and Even were fucking, Chris let out a low whistle that had Isak’s lip twitching as it curled back in disgust. 

“Shit, a  _ boy _ ,” he said, though he didn’t sound repulsed. “Who was  _ he _ , then? Anyone we know?”

Even didn't reply right away, and the anxiety nibbled away at Isak’s insides the longer he waited for Even’s voice.

“No,” Even finally answered. “No, you don't know him.” 

A flood of relief washed over Isak, but the feeling didn't last for long before it was being replaced with something else— a niggling feeling of uneasiness twisting in his gut that he tried to push down to no avail.

_ No, you don't know him.  _ Then who the fuck else was Even hooking up with? Fuck having no problem if Even wanted to be with other people. That was a lie— a complete and utter lie. And like,  _ fuck _ . Just thinking about Even hooking up with someone else had Isak’s heart clenching in his chest far too painfully. Was he really that bad that Even needed to fuck other people to get proper satisfaction? 

Isak didn't even notice he was grinding his teeth together or that tears were stinging at the corners of his eyes until he felt a hand touching his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. His eyes flew to Jonas who was looking at him with a concerned expression, and Isak sniffed harshly before he pulled his shirt over his head and shook himself out of his weird mood. 

“You okay, man?” Jonas asked softly, and Isak felt a pang of appreciation as he sent Jonas what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, yeah. Just,” Isak gestured vaguely, trailing off and shaking his head. “Don't worry about it. I'm alright.”

 

But he wasn't really alright, and his distraction and lack of composure was more than apparent on the field during their scrimmage. 

Coach Anders had placed him up top in the striker position, where he normally was, but his team probably would have been better off having Magnus take Isak’s position— and he hadn't played on the field since he was around eleven.

No matter how much Isak tried to push his feelings about Even sleeping with someone else to the back of his mind, the thought just wouldn't leave his brain. It was like he’d walked into a spider web— he knew they were there, but no matter how much he tried to ignore it, he just couldn't. 

“Isak!” Jonas cried out, snapping him from thoughts just in time to see the ball flying past him. Quickly, he spun on his heel to chase after it and collect it before the opposition did. Only when he turned, he instantly spotted Even charging towards the ball as well. 

Isak pushed himself hard, sprinting just a little bit faster, but he and Even arrived at the ball at the same time anyways. With a frustrated grunt Isak wound up to kick the ball, and as his foot connected with it, Even’s did as well— his ankle ricocheting back from the force of the collision hard enough to send a searing jolt of pain through his foot that radiated up his leg. He let out a cry as he crumpled to the ground, all thoughts of winning the ball and kicking Even’s ass in the process dissipating from his brain. His hands immediately reached out to grab at his ankle, hoping that pressure would stop the pain.

How wrong he was.

The second his fingers closed around his ankle, however, another shock of pain twinged sharply, and Isak did nothing to stop the howl that slipped past his lips.

Above him, Even stood frozen in place for a few seconds as he watched everything unfold before him. There was a look of pure shock on his face, but it wasn’t like Isak could see it— his eyes were screwed shut in agony, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Nor could he hear much of the general commotion around him as his teammates crowded around. Though, he was able to make out the  _ shit, I guess Even really wanted the spotlight all to himself— he’s willing to do anything to get to it _ , that Chris laughed out. 

And—  _ what _ ? What the  _ fuck _ did that mean? Even had purposely hacked his cleat into Isak’s ankle to fuck him over? Suddenly a hot anger was pulsing through Isak’s veins, a million different ways to kill Even running through his mind. He struggled to sit up and he placed his hands on the turf on either side of his body before trying to lift himself back onto his feet. He winced as he jostled his foot, but he managed to stand. The second he tried to put pressure on his foot, however, he nearly buckled back down again.

“Isak!” Jonas’s distressed voice cried out. 

Before Isak could fall to the ground again, an arm was sliding around his waist, catching him and holding him upright. At first he thought it was Jonas, but when Isak looked up to see who it was, his vision was assaulted by blue eyes and that fucking bright yellow headband— Even. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were parted as though he were about to speak, but Isak cut him off before he could.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he seethed, trying to squirm his way out of Even’s arms. Even’s grip only tightened in response. 

“Isak, shit, are you okay?” Even asked, ignoring Isak’s protests. He sounded genuine, but Isak wasn’t about to fall for that bullshit. Of course he would sound genuine in front of the others. He couldn’t mar his golden boy reputation now, could he?

“Fuck off,” Isak snapped, shoving away from Even finally. “Don’t pretend like you actually give a shit.”

The worried expression on Even’s face briefly twisted into one of confusion before his stare hardened and his lips pressed together. “What the fuck? I do give a shit, Isak. That’s why I’m asking if you’re alright.”

Instead of actually responding to Even, Isak just scoffed and started to limp to the sidelines. Every step he took brought another spike of pain, but Isak just clenched his jaw and focused on getting to the bench. 

Jonas was at his side in an instant, grabbing Isak’s arm and slinging it around his shoulder. “Shit, Isak. What the fuck happened?”

Isak shook his head. “Fucking Even happened, that’s what. The asshole fucking went for my ankle instead of the fucking ball,” he gritted out through his teeth.

“What the fuck,” Jonas hissed. “I thought you two were fine now that you’re…. you know,” he trailed off.

“I thought so too,” Isak agreed. “I guess fucking not, though.” Any inklings he had about Even’s potential feelings were now completely erased— there was no fucking way Even actually liked him. If he really did have feelings for Isak, he wouldn’t purposely try to injure him— which he just did, so. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, make sure this isn’t serious.”

  
  


A sprain. His ankle was sprained— minorly, thank god. Unfortunately, that meant Isak wouldn’t be playing in their game against Sandfjorde, as he was required to stay off of it for seven to ten days depending on how well it healed over the next few.

He wasn’t really benefiting himself, though, as he hobbled out of the elevator without a pair of crutches. And it certainly didn’t help that his steps were falling harder than he would’ve preferred as he hurried down the hall, trying his best to get away from Even— who wasn’t far behind him.

“Isak!” Even called out, jogging after Isak until he caught up to him. “What the hell is your problem?”

Isak pointedly ignored Even, swallowing down the harsh retort he so badly wanted to let fly— but he wasn’t about to give Even the satisfaction of answering him. Maybe if Even hadn’t tried to hurt him on purpose he would have been more willing to talk to him.

“Isak!” Even exclaimed again, the frustration evident in his tone. “You’ve got to talk to me. I can't fix anything if I don't know what the fuck your problem is!”

“What the fuck is  _ your _ problem?” Isak snarled, already breaking his vow not to talk to Even the rest of the night. The anger was just too much to hold in. He picked up his pace, limping down the hall as fast as he could with his injured ankle— probably making his condition even worse. 

“Come on, Isak,” Even called after him. He wasn't far behind him— probably would've been at his side already had he not been trying to at least respect the fact that Isak couldn't walk very fast because of his ankle.

“I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” Isak hissed, shoving his keycard into the door far too aggressively for it to work. The small light blinked red at him and he huffed out angrily before trying again. 

He was in the middle of stuffing the card in for the third time when Even’s fingers suddenly closed around his hand and tried to pry the key card from Isak so he could help. 

Immediately Isak jerked his hand away and reached out to shove Even back. “Fucking hell, I can do it myself.”

Even dropped his hands from Isak’s and held them up in surrender. “Can you please just tell me what the fuck I did?” He pleaded. “I don't understand why you're acting so hostile. I thought we were over this shit!”

A bitter laugh slipped past Isak’s lips and he shook his head. “Yeah, I thought so too,” he replied. “But then you fucking clocked me just so you can get the ‘spotlight’ to yourself,” he spat.

Finally, the door registered the keycard and the lock clicked open. Isak leaned his shoulder into it and pushed into the room, not bothering to hold the door open for Even— though Isak knew he would follow him inside although it was obvious he was trying to avoid him.

“Wait a second,” Even snapped, reaching out to grab at Isak’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. He spun Isak around so he could look him in the eyes, searching for answers. “You think I purposely tried to hurt you?” His voice was dripping with disbelief and he looked genuinely upset by the thought that Isak would assume he would do such a thing. 

Isak pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening as he met Even’s eyes. “Oh,  _ come on _ ,” he grumbled, unable to stop Chris’s words from echoing through his head and fueling his anger. “Don’t bullshit me, Even,” he added, rolling his eyes.

“Bullshit you?” Even scoffed, his nose wrinkling up at Isak’s accusation. “How the hell am I bullshitting you? 

“You can’t just sit here and pretend like you didn’t go right for my ankle in that tackle earlier,” Isak exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “My fucking ankle is sprained, Even— you were nowhere near the damn ball. I’m out for the next  _ week’s _ worth of games and practices. And it fucking  _ hurts _ , too.” It was already swollen and throbbing uncomfortably beneath the splint— he really needed to listen to the doctor’s orders to stay off of it, especially if he wanted to get back to the game faster. He limped over to the bed, gingerly sitting on the edge so that he wasn’t putting anymore weight on his ankle. “I guess that’s what you wanted though, isn’t it?” He added bitterly, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“No,” Even replied right away, the word so full of conviction that Isak had to look up at him again. “I’m telling you the truth here, Isak. I kicked the  _ ball _ — not your ankle. I can’t help if that you don’t believe me— which I don’t even understand why you  _ wouldn’t _ . I thought…” he trailed off, pausing for a second. “I thought we had something. I thought you trusted me,” he finished lamely, his voice dropping off to a weak whisper at the end. 

His eyes flickered up from the ground to catch Isak’s, and pang of hope twinged through Isak’s heart as he took in the hurt expression on Even’s face. It seemed completely genuine— as did his words. And, his words were right, too. They  _ did _ have something. Isak  _ did  _ trust Even. But that nagging feeling of doubt kept whispering to him that Even was only with him for the sex, that he only wanted a quick fuck and Isak was conveniently there every time he needed an outlet for his frustrations. That doubt also told him he was reading into the soft touches far too much, that he was probably imagining that they meant more, as his own outlet for his feelings. And then there was that creeping insecurity feeding into his fear that Even would get bored of it all, would get sick of Isak—  _ especially _ if he knew feelings were involved now— and would cut things off and leave. Chris’s words absolutely hadn’t helped any of that. In fact, they’d just egged those pesky feelings on, twisting up his thoughts and confusing his heart even more. In hindsight, he should’ve realized that Chris’s words didn’t mean shit. 

“I do,” Isak reassured. “I just… I heard Chris say that you’d do anything to get in the spotlight and I believed him— which is fucking stupid of me, really,” he laughed bitterly.

The mattress dipped beside him as Even cautiously seated himself on the edge of the bed, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. “Chris is a fucking asshole,” Even said. “You can’t listen to anything he says— especially when he doesn’t fucking know shit about what’s going on.”

Isak’s gaze dropped back down to the floor and he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he replied, “I shouldn’t have believed him. Not without talking to you about it.”

Suddenly, two fingers inched into view and tapped gently at the underside of Isak’s chin, dragging his face up and to the side so he was looking at Even. There was a soft, sweet smile curving Even’s lips, and Isak couldn’t stop his own from stretching to match the expression. 

Then Even was scooting closer, crowding into Isak’s space so that they were mere inches apart. His slid his fingers up the side of Isak’s face until he was cupping his cheek, his thumb smoothing across the skin, and he brought his other hand up as well so he was cradling Isak’s head between them. Even tipped his head to the side, his eyes wide and earnest as they connected with Isak’s. His gaze was calming and sincere, and Isak felt his heart leap into his throat. 

“Isak,” Even whispered. “I’m sorry that you ever thought I would do that on purpose, but you have to know that I would  _ never _ . I—” he paused, taking in a deep breath, as though he were preparing himself to bare his entire soul, “I like you— I really,  _ really _ like you,” he admitted, the corners of his lips quirking up even more once the words were out. “Hurting you, in any way, is the last thing I would ever want to do.”

Isak blinked back at Even, his mind whirring a mile a minute as he processed the words he’d just heard.  _ I like you I like you I like you _ . Even had feelings for him.  _ Even liked him _ . Isak hadn’t been imagining things, hadn’t been reading too into it all— Even fucking  _ liked him back _ . 

A giddy feeling settled in Isak’s chest and his lips pulled so wide that he was sure he probably looked a bit ridiculous right now, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. Not when he had Even right here in his arms, professing the exact feelings Isak had been worried only he had. 

Before Isak could say anything back, Even was leaning in, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips closed over Isak’s in the softest, sweetest kiss Isak had ever had the pleasure of being apart of. It sent tingles all the way down to his toes, and his heart swelled three times its normal size in his chest.

Since he didn’t get a chance to return the sentiment, Isak tried to push everything he was feeling into the kiss. He held on tightly to Even to show how close he felt to him— how close he wanted to be to him. His arms were looped around Even’s neck, and one hand drifted up to cup the back of Even’s head— threading his fingers tenderly through Even’s hair and just letting them rest there, not pulling.

Even shifted on the bed and gently pushed at Isak until he was lying back against the pillows, his legs falling apart so Even could fit himself between them. 

Isak deepened the kiss, pulling Even closer as he dragged his tongue across Even’s lower lip. Even responded almost immediately to the request, his lips parting and allowing Isak the access he wanted. It felt so nice, being able to kiss Even like this— slow and soft and tender, yet still filled with so much passion and so much want.

“Fuck, I want… I want your hands on me. Touch me,” Isak breathed out after a while. Then he was struggling to sit up so he could tug his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. Even followed suit, and the second his hands were free he was pressing them to Isak’s skin, sweeping his palms over Isak’s chest, his fingers digging into his sides as he kept moving them down. 

Isak arched into the touches, his own hands reaching out to touch Even in return in any way he could get his hands on him. They weren’t even doing anything, Even was just touching Isak, but god damn, there was just something about having Even’s hands all over his body that made him feel hot all over.

At some point, Isak’s eyes had slipped shut, reveling in the way the rough pads of Even’s fingers traced across the curves and bumps of his body. He was jolted back into reality by the warm pair of lips that started to leave a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down his sternum. When his eyes flickered down, his gaze met Even’s almost immediately, and Even’s mouth curved into a smile. He pressed a kiss to Isak’s belly button before he clambered back up Isak’s body and leaned in close enough that their noses brushed again.

“Fy faen, Isak, you’re so beautiful,” Even breathed, and then he was surging forward to mold his lips back to Isak’s. 

Isak responded to the kiss right away, gasping into it and pushing his mouth hard back against Even’s. He wrapped his arms around Even’s neck to pull him closer and trap him against his body. 

Even went easily, pressing himself all down Isak’s front. The added weight didn't bother Isak though, just made him feel grounded in the moment. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of Even’s neck and slid his hand through the strands, pulling gently. 

Even’s fingers pressed into the side of Isak’s rib cage and he smoothed his hand down the curve of Isak’s torso until he was gripping at Isak’s hip, tightening his hold there as he lined their bodies up. Isak hooked his good ankle around Even’s body, pulling it against his own so that their fronts were pressed together. The pressure felt so good, and Isak whined softly into Even’s mouth, jerking his hips up desperately. 

The movement urged Even on though, and he broke away from the kiss, nudging his nose against Isak’s. “Do you have lube? And a condom?” He asked, his voice an octave lower than usual. It sent chills down Isak’s spine. 

Immediately, Isak nodded and reached for the drawer of the hotel’s bedside table. He couldn't quite reach it, but thankfully Even stretched his arm towards it, tugging it open and pulling out the supplies Isak had stowed there before practice. (He hadn’t necessarily been expecting this per se, but after the last time they’d been in a hotel room together he definitely wanted the condoms and lube to be more easily accessible this time.)

Once the lube and condom had been deposited onto the bed next to Isak, Even got to work on his shorts, tugging the strings apart before he pulled them down. Isak lifted his hips to help Even and once they were discarded, he hastily slipped out of his boxers while Even worked on removing his own shorts.

Even’s touches were soft and affectionate as he spread Isak’s legs, gliding a palm tenderly down Isak’s inner thigh which caused him to shiver. Even’s finger ghosted over Isak’s hole, which fluttered underneath the barely there touch. After coating them in lube, Even brought his fingers back between Isak’s legs, tracing one around his rim before letting it catch. When he finally pushed the first finger in, stars burst behind Isak’s eyes and a broken moan fell from his lips.

Being opened up by Even was one of the best feelings in the world, Isak quickly grew to learn. His fingers were long and skilled, and he knew exactly the right ways to twist them and the perfect angles to crook them. Isak’s toes were curling and he had no control over the sounds that were pouring out of his mouth.

Even made it to the third finger before Isak was too much of a squirming mess beneath him, whining impatiently for Even to get inside of him. 

“Even, please, I need you,” Isak whimpered, clutching at Even’s bicep as he pushed back against his fingers, waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

A particularly good thrust had Even’s fingers connecting with Isak’s prostate, and a strangled cry spilled from him as he tried not to come from how good it felt. His dick was straining against his stomach, precome smearing over his abs, and he needed Even to get inside of him like yesterday. “Fuck, Even, please,  _ please _ . Before I come,” he cried. 

Finally, Even pulled his fingers out of Isak, wiping them on the bedsheets below before he picked up the condom and tore it open. He struggled a bit, his fingers too wet to get a proper grip on it, but finally he managed to roll it on. Then he was lining his hips up with Isak’s, the tip of his dick brushing against his rim. 

A moan slipped from Isak and he grappled at Even, looking for something,  _ anything _ , to grab onto. His grip slipped from Even’s shoulder and down his arm, stopping loosely around his wrist. Even’s hand found Isak’s, and he laced their fingers together, settling their twined hands up by Isak’s head. Then he was pressing his hips forward, slowly pushing into Isak. 

The second the tip of Even’s dick slipped past his rim, Isak’s brain practically short-circuited. He clutched onto Even’s hand so tight his knuckles went white, and his chest was heaving as he sucked in breath after breath. 

Even gave him a few seconds to adjust, and when Isak gave him the okay, he pushed his hips forward the rest of the way until he bottomed out. He let out a grunt as he did so, letting his forehead drop against Isak’s. His lips were hovering just above Isak’s, and they spent a moment breathing hotly into each other’s mouths before Isak tipped his chin up and connected their lips in a searing kiss. 

They moved messily together, and Even kept breaking the kiss so he could gaze into Isak’s eyes and then press a dozen smaller kisses all over his face. His lips dragged diagonal from Isak’s to sloppily kiss over his cheek, then down to kiss his chin, and as he lifted his head back up to recapture Isak’s lips, his nose slipped into Isak’s mouth, pulling a breathy laugh from Isak.

A grin curved at Even’s lips, and he started to shift his hips back, his dick sliding out of Isak. Isak let out a disappointed whine at the loss, but before he could do much else, Even thrust forward again, filling him back up. 

Another long moan was wrenched from Isak and he threw his head against the pillows behind him, his back arching and nails digging into Even’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Even!” He cried out.

They worked up a steady rhythm— Even rocking into Isak while Isak grinded his hips down to meet each thrust— and Isak could feel the heat in his belly curling tighter and tighter each time their hips met. The little sounds spilling from both of them filled the room and Isak’s ears and Isak’s heart, and he held Even just a bit closer. 

Even fucked like an artist— each stroke precise, yet full of so much purpose and conviction. It was toe-curling, spine-tingling, mind-numbing, and it made Isak feel so good and happy and loved. It was so good, in fact, that Isak had been reduced to a babbling mess, the only coherent word amongst a jumble of sounds being Even’s name— which Isak chanted like a prayer. 

Somehow, he managed to choke out a “fuck, Even, I’m coming,” before he clenched around Even and his whole body tensed up. He squeezed his eyes shut as he gave himself over to pleasure, pure bliss flooding through his veins as Even fucked him, slow and deep, through his orgasm.

It wasn’t long before Even’s hips started to stutter, his thrusts beginning to slow down. “Isak,” he panted out, a strand of hair falling into his eyes as he stared into Isak’s. “Fuck, m’gonna come,” he moaned, burying himself deep inside of Isak before his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave and he came hard, filling the condom.

Isak wrapped his arms around Even’s middle, holding him against him and grounding Even as he let himself go. Even burrowed his face into Isak’s neck, his body shaking as he collapsed against Isak. 

“That was brolliny… brillamy… brillant…” Even slurred, his post-orgasm brain completely muddled. “ _ Brilliant _ ,” he finally said, giggling softly as he looked up into Isak’s eyes. 

“It was,” Isak breathed out, a blissful smile spreading across his face. “Good game, babe,” he added, flicking his eyebrows up before playfully slapping Even’s ass. 

A grin exploded onto Even’s face and he shook his head at Isak, hiding his face against his chest. “Oh my god,” he snorted.

Eventually Even pulled out of Isak and discarded the condom before snuggling back up to him. They curled around each other, their bodies completely intertwined, faces only inches apart on the pillow. 

“You know,” Isak started after a few moments of just staring at Even, taking in his beauty. “If you couldn’t tell, I like you, too,” he professed, his dimples popping from his own grin. “I like you so much, and I was so worried that I was the only one that felt that way.”

Even shook his head immediately, knocking it against Isak’s a little in his haste. “No, definitely not. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he laughed, brushing a lock of hair from Isak’s face. “I thought it was just me, too.”

“Really?” Isak asked, chuckling softly and burrowing more into Even’s side. 

Even nodded. “Yeah. I thought you just wanted to fuck— nothing else— so I was too afraid to bring it up before this. I never thought I’d get to do that with you either.”

“Do what?” Isak asked curiously, his finger tracing random shapes into skin of Even’s shoulder. 

“Hold you like that. Kiss you like that. Be with you like  _ that _ ,” Even answered slowly. “I never thought we’d get to this point, y’know? I thought you were going to hate me forever,” he confessed.

“No, never,” Isak responded right away, his eyes earnest as he stared into Even’s, making sure he knew that. 

Even smiled warmly at him and tipped his chin down so he could connect their lips in a short, chaste kiss. "Why did you hate me so much?” He wondered aloud. 

Isak shifted in Even’s arms, breaking the eye contact as he swallowed nervously. Even pressed a kiss to his forehead and took Isak’s hand into his, slotting their fingers together before giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I guess…” Isak started out slowly. “I guess I was jealous,” he admitted. “It’s just, I’ve had to work so hard my entire life to get to where I am, you know? When I was younger my dad left me and my mom, and we really struggled. She had a hard time holding a job and it was really hard for her to make ends meet sometimes, but like, she still made sure that there was enough for me to play football— to buy the uniforms and all the equipment, to participate in the camps, to get the right kind of training I needed. And I wasn’t very good at first either,” he laughed softly, thinking back to the first years he started playing. “But I took it seriously and I would spend hours and hours working on my technique. It didn’t come easy to me, but I worked hard and making it here, to the big leagues, was the best thing that ever happened to me. But even when I was here it was hard. The guys weren’t so open to me at first— which was partially my fault. I had the mindset that I wasn’t good enough which made me defensive and closed off to them. It wasn’t until Jonas joined the team that I started opening up to them.”

Even was listening raptly, allowing Isak to say everything he wanted to without interrupting, and Isak felt his heart warm at that. 

“And then you showed up,” Isak said, smiling up at Even. “And everyone fucking  _ loved _ you,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I hated it. You were so fucking charming and sweet and you had everyone falling at your feet— and you were so humble about it all too. Every time someone complimented you you always thanked them and then complimented them back. But everyone loved you from the very second you stepped foot on the pitch, and I  _ hated _ that. Because that didn’t happen to me.”

Even squeezed his hand again, encouraging him to continue.

“You joined the team and got it all right away without even trying,” he said softly. “It’s kind of pathetic, I was so jealous of that.” 

“Hey, no, it’s not pathetic,” Even responded, shaking his head. “I’m sorry that you felt like that. I honestly had no idea,” he said.

Isak laughed. “No, you don’t need to apologize for that. You can’t help it. You’re an amazing player, Even, and you’re a really good person, too. You deserve all of the attention and praise you’ve gotten. I was just a jealous asshole that took it out on you when you didn’t deserve it.”

Even pursed his lips. “I don’t think it was necessarily a bad thing,” he started, earning a curious eyebrow raise from Isak. “I mean, we’re here now, right?” 

“We are,” Isak agreed, resting his head against Even’s collarbone. Even wrapped his arms around Isak in response before smacking a kiss to his cheek.

As Isak melted into the embrace, for the first time in a while, he felt completely content with the world. He felt relaxed, he felt happy, he felt  _ loved _ .


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting on the bench fucking sucked. Isak knew, objectively, that it would, but actually sitting his ass on the hard, cold bench as he watched his best friends and teammates sprint up the field and connect passes with each other and go for the goal _really_ fucking sucked. More than he ever could have imagined. 
> 
> The entire game he was itching to get on the field himself, to turn to Coach Anders and demand he put him in, even though he knew very well he couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it in time again!! Yayy! (Also peep the new chapter count ayee) Fun Fact: this chapter didn't exist until I decided the jump between 8 and what would have been 9 was too much so I thought of this! 
> 
> Special thanks to Mikki and Julia for helping me come up with some of the things that Chris and William say in this chapter!! Love you both <33
> 
> I'm going to try my best to have chapter 10 finished by Sunday! I've been good about being able to meet the deadlines but with this one I'm not sure if I'll be able to since I'm not going to have a lot of writing time today or tomorrow since I'm going home for spring break tomorrow and I have to start packing and stuff tonight! I'm going to try my very very best though!!  
> Buuuut I am going to be on spring break next week so that means I'll have a whole week of time to hopefully focus on writing, so hopefully I'll be able to get some things done!! (Annnd I just came up with a new idea that I'm SOOOO fucking excited about, I started writing it last night and my goal is to finish it over break so it's ready for it's posting date!!)
> 
> Anywayssss, here's chapter 9!! Enjoy!

The next morning, Isak was pulled back into consciousness by a pair of lips smacking kisses all over his face — across his cheeks, down the bridge of his nose, over his eyelids.

A lazy smile spread across Isak’s lips— the only sign that he was actually awake— and he puckered them, silently asking for a real kiss. Even obliged right away, pressing his mouth against Isak’s, the two of them ignoring each other’s morning breath while their lips moved languidly together. Isak shifted closer to Even, bringing up a hand to rest against his cheek. 

When they finally broke apart, Isak opened his eyes only to be met with Even’s bright blue ones and his even brighter smile. “Good morning,” he greeted warmly.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Even echoed, brushing his fingers through Isak’s hair. 

Isak couldn't fight the blush that was rising to his cheeks, and he rolled his eyes fondly. “Beautiful?” He repeated.

Even nodded against the pillow, smushing his cheek against it even more. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Isak.”

“Then you're fucking gorgeous,” Isak retorted before surging forward to reconnect their lips. 

This kiss was much more heated than the first one they shared this morning, but that didn't deter either one of them. In fact, it did quite the opposite. Isak threw a leg over Even’s thighs, pulling him in, and was pleased to find that Even was already just as hard as he was. 

Without breaking the kiss, Isak repositioned himself so that he was straddling Even’s waist. He deepened the kiss and slowly started to grind down on Even, relishing in the feel of bare skin on skin. 

Even moaned softly into his mouth and started to roll his hips back against Isak’s, his arms loosely wrapping around Isak’s torso. 

Their kiss grew sloppier the longer they rutted against each other— lips sliding together messily. At one point, Even started pressing short, quick kisses to Isak’s mouth, but he ended up missing more often than not, catching his chin and the corners of his lips instead. 

They had just worked up to a nice tempo— the sheets falling from around Isak’s waist as Even’s hands dropped down to cup two handfuls of his ass— when the hotel room door flew open.

“ _Oh shit_ !” Jonas’s voice rang out, followed by more muttered cursing and a long groan.

Immediately, Isak’s movements halted and he tore his lips from Even’s, scrambling to yank the sheets back over their bodies. “ _Jonas_ !” He hissed out, his cheeks absolutely flaming as he shot a glare at his best friend.

“Fucking hell, Isak!” Jonas exclaimed, his arms covering his eyes, which were squeezed shut as well. “Jesus christ. First the shower, now this. God, I need to burn my eyes and my ears and everything.”

Isak collapsed against Even and buried his face into his chest for a moment, letting out a groan. Even chuckled softly and curled his arm around Isak’s waist, smoothing his palm over the small of his back. 

“I take it you got your shit together then?” Jonas asked, not removing his arm as he tried to blindly walk towards his side of the room.

Isak scoffed. “ _Yes_ ,” he confirmed. “And you can take your hands off of your eyes, we’re decent now.”

Hesitantly, Jonas lowered his arms. When his eyes met Even’s, he offered him a wave. “Hi, Even,” he acknowledged. 

Even returned the gesture and sent him a smile. “Halla, Jonas. Thanks for letting us have the room, by the way,” he added. 

“Oh, right, yeah. No problem. I saw you following Isak, and honestly, I figured something like this would happen so I thought it best to let you two have your space. I didn't want to interrupt— which, too late for that, I guess.” 

Even laughed warmly, and Isak couldn't help but cuddle into his side. “Well thank you,” Even repeated.

“So…” Jonas trailed off, looking like he was trying to figure out how to phrase his next thought. “Mags, Mahdi, and I were going to head down for breakfast soon. That's why I came here, actually— to see if you wanted to join us, Isak. You can come too, Even. That shouldn't be a problem anymore. But, like, if you two want to, like, finish or whatever we can wait and go a little later.”

“No, it’s alright, we can go now,” Even answered at the exact same time Isak started vigorously nodding his head, an almost desperate  _Yes please_ falling from his mouth. 

Even laughed and smacked a kiss to Isak’s cheek. “We have plenty of time to pick back up later, babe,” he started, the pet name causing the butterflies in Isak’s stomach to start flapping excitedly as he practically swooned in Even’s arms. “The breakfast buffet closes soon and I want to make sure I get one of those omelets, they look amazing,” he told Isak, squeezing his hip lightly. 

Begrudgingly, Isak agreed— but not without whining a little bit first. Even just laughed good-naturedly and leaned in to kiss the smile back onto his face. (It didn’t take long for that to happen, no matter how much Isak tried to pout.)

The sound of Jonas’s throat clearing pulled them back to the present, and Isak flashed him a sheepish look. Thankfully, Jonas didn’t look annoyed, just fondly exasperated with their shenanigans. 

“I’ll, uh, wait outside I guess? For you two to,” he gestured aimlessly towards their current state of dress, “get… decent. Then we can head down,” he finished, sending them an awkward, tight-lipped smile before he turned on his heel and walked back out of the room.

Once Jonas was gone, Isak flopped back against the mattress, letting out a puff of air. Beside him, Even shifted so he was lying down again, pressed up against Isak’s side, and he traced soothing circles into Isak’s chest. Isak let his head roll to the side so he could peer into Even’s eyes. “I don’t wanna leave this bed,” he murmured softly, grinning widely at Even. 

“Mm, me neither,” Even hummed in agreement. “I wish we could stay in here all day. If only we didn’t have a game later,” he sighed. 

Isak felt a pang of longing bleed through his chest at the comment. He’d be sitting on the sidelines for this one— something he wasn’t too happy about. But he’d be able to watch Even go out there and give it his all— a fact that made it a little more bearable. (And of course, the fact that he’d be able to admire those gorgeous calves and strong thighs in action was rather nice, too.) “I’m not going to be out there to pick up all your slack,” Isak teased, earning a playful shove from Even, “so you better kick ass today.”

Even scoffed. “Of course I’m going to kick ass,” he responded. “I have a lot to make up for since you’ll be out.” He flicked his eyebrows up and closed his lips over Isak’s once more in a quick kiss before sitting up and rolling out of bed so he could get dressed. 

Reluctantly, Isak slipped out of the comfort of the bed to make himself presentable as well.

 

When Isak and Even finally exited the hotel room a few minutes later, they found Jonas outside leaning against the wall while he messed around on his phone. 

“That was… fast,” he commented, an impressed look crossing over his face as he appraised the two of them. 

Isak snorted. “We got up and put clothes on— like we said we would,” he responded, rolling his eyes at Jonas . “Wipe that smirk off your face you fucknut.”

“Trust me, if we did anything else we would definitely still be in there. And you’d probably be able to hear us,” Even added casually, shrugging as if admitting something like that were the most natural thing.

“Oh my god, Even,” Isak wheezed, his eyes widening at the comment. Even just grinned and knocked his shoulder into Isak’s before reaching down to grab his hand. He linked their fingers together and smiled sweetly at Isak— filling him with so much happiness he felt like he was going to burst.

Beside them, Jonas twisted his face at Even’s comment, but then his eyes landed on their joined hands and his thick eyebrows shot up, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So, you two have been together for what? Like seventeen hours or some shit and you’re already this disgustingly cute?”

“We’ve got a lot of time to make up for,” Isak responded with a shrug, squeezing Even’s hand and sending him a private smile that was returned immediately. “We used to hate each other, you know,” he reminded. 

Jonas barked out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, that’s not something I can forget,” he said. “You’re all he ever talked about,” he directed towards Even, earning a bright chuckle and another nudge to Isak’s side.

“I’m all you ever talked about, hm?” He teased, glancing towards Isak, who was valiantly trying to fight off the blush that was creeping up his neck. 

And Isak didn’t really have an answer to that. He had to admit, Jonas was kind of right— he did talk about Even a lot, although most of it was complaining about how perfect he was and how irritating he was and how everyone loved him— but that was beside the point. “I guess I kind of did,” he admitted.

“You’re so cute,” Even murmured, tilting his head as he caught Isak’s eye. The smile on his face was so wide his eyes were crinkling at the corners and Isak could see his canines.

“I swear if you stop to make out I’m leaving you. I want my damn breakfast,” Jonas piped up, snapping them out of their lovesick stare off. 

 

Finally, they made it to the ballroom that held the breakfast buffet and Jonas clapped them both on the back. “Mags and Mahdi are at the table in the corner. I’m off to get some of that brunch quiche, it looks fucking delicious,” Jonas informed before beelining for the buffet.

Isak nodded and chuckled as Jonas nearly ran right into an old women in his haste to get to the quiche. He dropped Even’s hand and reached for the plates, grabbing two and passing one to Even.

“Thank you,” Even said, accepting the plate. “I’ll be over there getting my omelet if you need me,” he added before darting forward to press a kiss to Isak’s cheek. Then, he turned on his heel and headed towards the omelet station, leaving Isak to join the nearest line and start loading up his plate.

The three of them arrived at Magnus and Mahdi’s table at around the same time, all juggling various plates full of delicious food that they deposited onto the table before any of it spilled. Isak settled into one of the seats across from Magnus, and Even took the place right next to him, subtly scooting his chair close enough that he could hook his ankle around Isak’s good one and rest his palm against Isak’s thigh.

“Isak!” Magnus cheered. “I feel like I didn’t see you, like, all day yesterday!” 

Isak bit down on his lip to hold back a laugh as he nodded. “Yeah, I, uh, went up to my room after I got back from the hospital and just kinda chilled in there the rest of the night,” he responded.

Magnus fixed a curious gaze on Isak, who shifted under it and turned to his food as a distraction. Thankfully, before Magnus could further question him— like Isak knew he wanted to— Mahdi spoke up.

“How’s your ankle, bro?” He asked, sending Isak a concerned glance. 

“It’s fine,” Isak answered, nodding his head. “It’s in a splint, and I don’t need crutches. I just have to stay off of it as much as I can, and aside from that I obviously can’t play for a week.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find something else to do,” Jonas chimed in, smirking around the bite of quiche he quickly shoved into his mouth. "Or someone," he muttered under his breath so only Isak could hear.

Isak elbowed Jonas in the ribs, causing him to choke out a laugh around his bite of food. 

Suddenly, Even was nudging his arm to get his attention. His fork was hovering next to Isak’s plate. “Can I steal a bite of your pancakes?” He asked, tilting his head cutely. 

Isak nodded, nearly lifting his own fork up for Even to eat right off of. He caught himself as he remembered their company and pushed his plate towards Even instead, sending him a smile so sweet it could’ve rivaled the maple syrup covering his pancakes.

“What the fuck,” Magnus blurted, pulling Isak out of their little moment. His eyes snapped up to see Magnus staring at him and Even skeptically. “Did you just share your food with him?” 

Isak just shrugged, a nonchalant look covering his face. “Yeah,” he responded simply.

“Since when do you share food with Even?” Magnus questioned, narrowing his eyes at Isak. “And why the fuck are you two sitting so close togeth—  _oh my god_ .” His eyes suddenly bugged, and he looked between Isak and Even. “Oh my god, Even, where were you last night?” He demanded, leaning over his plate towards the two of them. There was a knowing glint in his eye as he stared Even down. It was almost as though he were daring Even to try and lie. 

“I…” Even trailed off, floundering a bit under the sudden direct attention. But before he could even try to come up with some sort of answer, Magnus was cutting him off. 

“Holy shit. You two are fucking— like  _really, actually fucking_ !” Magnus exclaimed, smacking his hand against the table. “ _Finally_ !”

Isak spluttered around his food, and Even’s eyes widened significantly at Magnus’s enthusiasm. 

“Jesus, Magnus,” Mahdi said, sending him a warning look.

“They so are though! I mean, you look well fucked, Isak, good on you, bro,” Magnus continued. “It's about time.” Suddenly he turned towards Even, his lips spreading into a mischievous smirk. “I guess the defense isn't the only thing you penetrate,” he quipped, sending a wink his way. 

Even let out a loud laugh at that, his eyes going wide in a partially scandalized look.

“Oh my god,” Isak muttered into his napkin, hiding his face— which was now flaming red. Even slipped his arm around Isak’s waist, figuring it wouldn't matter now that the boys all knew. Isak turned into the embrace and buried his face into Even’s neck, groaning softly. 

“So, like are you just fucking— like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or are you actually together?” Magnus wondered, earning a shove from Mahdi and a sigh of exasperation from Jonas. “What?” Magnus asked, glancing around the table. “I want to know!” 

“ _Magnus_ !” Jonas and Mahdi chorused.

“Leave them alone,” Mahdi rolled his eyes. “You don't need to know everything.”

Magnus held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry! I'm just curious,” he defended. “I mean, I am really happy for you two, no matter what.”

  
  


Sitting on the bench fucking sucked. Isak knew, objectively, that it would, but actually sitting his ass on the hard, cold bench as he watched his best friends and teammates sprint up the field and connect passes with each other and go for the goal  _really_ fucking sucked. More than he ever could have imagined. 

The entire game he was itching to get on the field himself, to turn to Coach Anders and demand he put him in, even though he knew very well he couldn’t. 

During half time, he’d jumped up from the bench and paced around, walking over to where Jonas, Magnus, Mahdi, and Even were gathered, gulping down water. 

The boys had chuckled a little at his stir-craziness, but looked sympathetic nonetheless— especially Even.

“I’m really sorry about your ankle,” Even started, sending Isak an apologetic glance. “I don’t think I’ve apologized yet, so I’m sorry.”

Isak shrugged. “It’s alright,” he replied. “I’m just missing a couple of games and some practices— it really isn’t that big of a deal.” 

He must have been more of an open book about it than he would’ve liked to be, though, because the soft-hearted look in Even’s eyes grew. He looked like he watched to reach out and touch Isak, but he didn’t.

“It was a strong tackle that didn’t favor my ankle,” Isak continued, sensing that Even was going to apologize yet again. He shuffled a bit closer to Even and placed his hand against his arm in a reassuring touch. “We both went for the ball at the same time, Even, it’s not your fault.”

Even nodded, though he still looked a bit upset about it all. So Isak tipped his chin up and pressed a kiss to Even’s cheek, bringing a smile back to Even’s face. 

“Now get back out there and get another goal, baby,” Isak prompted, smacking Even’s ass as he turned away from Isak. Even shot him a cheeky grin and flicked his eyebrows up at Isak as he jogged back out onto the field. 

The grin on Isak’s face faltered as his eye caught Chris’s, and he noticed the scrutinizing expression on his face— his eye narrowed, eyebrows furrowed as he watched the exchange. Isak felt a flare of panic shoot through his chest, and he turned towards the other boys, muttering a “just go with it,” before he smacked them all on the ass as well while they returned to the pitch.

The second half of the game went by much faster than the first— something that Isak was incredibly thankful for.  Sandfjorde wasn’t one of the stronger teams in the league, so Rosenborg was sitting pretty with a good three goals against them. Magnus had saved every shot they’d taken on goal, leaving them with nothing to show on the scoreboard. Throughout the second half, they’d managed to score two more goals, but it wasn’t until the last ten minutes of the game that Even added another goal to his belt — at a cost though.

Jonas had taken a shot on goal, but Sandfjorde’s keeper had gotten a hand on it, knocking it over the goal line— thus, giving Rosenborg a free corner kick. It was perfect, really. They’d spent a good week’s worth of practice honing their corner kicks and Julian and Even turned out to be a real dream team when it came to them. Julian knew exactly where to place the ball so Even could get his head on it and send it into the back of the net —and they consistently did so during practice. Now it was time to see how well they performed in an actual game situation.

The second Julian had stepped up to the cornerflag, Isak saw Even setting up his run, and before he knew it the whistle was blowing and Even was taking off for the center of the box, right next to the keeper. Julian sent the ball flying, and as Even jumped up to get his head on the ball, the keeper threw his arms into the air, too. 

Even’s head connected with the ball, and it ricocheted off of his forehead past the keeper’s fingertips; however, that wasn’t the only connection made in that moment. As the Sandfjord keeper flung his arms out to try and block the ball, his elbow managed to come crashing right into Even’s nose. It was like it happened in slow motion. Isak watched helplessly from the sideline as Even buckled to the ground, landing right on his back as his hands flew up to his face.

The referee blew his whistle and pointed at the center of the field, signalling that a goal had been scored. When he saw the commotion around the goal, he sprinted forward so he could attend to the problem. Isak watched as the ref pushed the players out of the way and bent over to speak with Even.

Slowly, Even rose to his feet— his hand still covering his mouth and nose— and the referee walked him towards the sideline. 

Isak was on his feet in an instant, though he stayed by the bench, not wanting to get in the way. The closer Even got to the bench, however, the clearer it became as to what was wrong. The front of his jersey was covered in blood, and some of it was dripping down the sides of his hands, rolling down his arm. “Shit.” 

Coach Anders was waiting right at the sideline for Even as he shuffled off the field. The second he crossed the line, Coach Anders was rapid firing question after question about the injury, seemingly trying to gather a better picture of what happened and how bad it was. Even answered back easily, his voice coming out a bit nasally due to the fact that he was pinching his nose closed, trying to hold off the flow of blood.

“Isak,” Coach Anders called out, and Isak was at his side in an instant. “I need you to take Even back to the locker room and help him deal with this,” he instructed, patting Even’s back.

Isak nodded right away. “Of course,” he responded, placing his hand in the middle of Even’s back (more of an excuse to touch him than anything else, really) before starting to lead him back in the direction of the locker room. 

“Thanks,” Even said through his hands, glancing towards Isak next to him as they neared the door.

Isak just nodded in response, the hand not on Even’s back coming up to touch his arm. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. “What happened?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Hurts like a bitch and it’s bleeding a lot, but I don’t think it’s broken? It doesn’t feel broken at least,” Even answered. “I went up to head the ball and the keeper jammed his elbow into my nose.”

“Shit,” Isak breathed. “I can give it a closer look once we get the bleeding to stop and get you cleaned up. Jonas broke his nose a few years ago, so I know what to look for.”

When they reached the locker room, Isak pulled the door open, holding it for Even so he could walk in first. 

He chuckled as he did and threw a glance over his shoulder at Isak. “I think that was the first time you held the door open for me instead of slamming it in my face,” he commented, a cheeky smirk playing at his lips.

Isak snorted. “I guess it is,” he confirmed while he followed Even in. 

They made their way deeper inside, and Even made a beeline for where he’d left his bag earlier. When he found it, he turned towards Isak, his eyebrow quirked in question. “Can you open that for me?” Even questioned. “I have a towel in there I can use to wipe up all the blood.”

“Yeah, is it in the main pocket?” Isak asked as he lifted the bag onto the bench and unzipped it.

“Yeah it should be right on top,” Even answered. 

Isak found it quickly and pulled it out before he set Even’s bag back on the floor. “Do you think it’s stopped bleeding?” He asked, gesturing for Even to sit in the space where his bag had been. Isak moved towards his own bag and removed his other water bottle from the pocket so he could use it to wet the towel.

Even seated himself on the bench and removed his hands from his face, exposing his nose which was covered in blood, the crimson color coating his philtrum and lips all the way down to his chin. It appeared as though it were drying— or already mostly dried in some places— and Isak stepped closer to Even so he could get a better look. 

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood,” he commented, swinging his leg over the bench so he was sitting right in front of Even. He tipped the water bottle and poured enough water onto the towel so only half of it was soaked before setting it aside and scooting even closer to Even. Isak started at his chin, wiping the corner of the towel over it to clear away all of the blood before moving on to Even’s lips, and when he got to Even’s nose he paused. “When you got hit, did you hear a crack?” He asked. 

Even shook his head. “Nope. No cracking, thank god.”

“Okay. Does it make like, a grating sound when you try to move it?” 

To test the theory, Even scrunched up his nose and wriggled it to see if there were any unnatural noises. He winced right away, his hand flying up to grab his nose— but he thought better of that right before his hand closed around it. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “No grating sounds,” he informed. “But fuck, it hurts.”

Isak flashed him a sympathetic smile. “The good news is that it doesn't look crooked or bent or anything, so I don’t think its broken. I’m pretty sure I have some pain relievers in my bag. Let me finish cleaning this up and I can get you a few,” he said.

He lifted the towel back up to his face and ever so carefully started to dab it against the bridge of Even’s nose. Almost immediately, Even sucked in a sharp breath, flinching as pain radiated under Isak’s touch. 

“Sorry, sorry. I'm trying to be careful,” Isak apologized.

It took a few minutes for Isak to carefully clean off all of the blood, and even then there were still flakes of it stuck in the crevices of Even’s nose that he didn't want to prod at. But when it was finally clean enough, Isak set down the towel and patted Even’s thigh. “All done, trooper,” he said, smiling softly at Even. 

“Thank you, Isak,” Even responded, returning the grin. 

“Of course,” Isak replied. Then he reached out to touch the hem of Even’s jersey. “This thing is covered in blood, why don't you take it off and I can like, run it under the sink or something,” he suggested.

A smirk rose to Even’s lips and he flicked his eyebrows up at Isak. “Oh, that’s just an excuse to get me out of my clothes, isn't it?” He teased. “I see right through you, Valtersen.”

Isak barked out a laugh. “I’m trying to be  _helpful_ ,” he countered. “Though seeing you shirtless is always a plus,” he added flirtatiously. 

Even pulled the bloody fabric over his head and let his shirt fall to the floor beside him in a heap. Then he reached out and tugged at the hem of Isak’s jersey, pulling him in.

Isak went easily, his arms immediately coming up to loop around Even’s neck. He let his eyes flutter shut as he tipped his chin up, and then Even’s lips were closing over his— briefly though. The second his nose pushed up against Isak’s he pulled back, cursing harshly under his breath. 

“Fuck,” Even muttered, shaking his head. “I just want to kiss you,” he whined.

Isak chuckled softly and brushed his fingers through Even’s hair. He tilted his head a bit more to the side so their noses couldn't press together again as he leaned back in, reconnecting their lips.

This time it worked out much better. Even’s nose was sitting against Isak’s cheek now, but it wasn't being jostled very much. It seemed as though the pain he did feel was worth it if he got to kiss Isak. 

Isak dropped one of his hands to loosely curl around Even’s waist, the other still tangled in his hair. 

The kiss was soft and chaste, just lips brushing against lips, but it sent tingles down to Isak’s toes nonetheless. He had a sense that no matter how many times he kissed Even, this feeling would never really go away. 

They were so lost in each other that they didn't hear the locker room door opening, or that they had company until a plethora of cat calls and hoots echoed through the locker room— Magnus’s obnoxious voice shouting out a loud “Get it, boys!”

Isak and Even sprang apart— viciously jostling Even’s nose enough to have him yelping out in pain. 

Isak felt his cheeks burning as he looked up to see all of his teammates standing around him and Even. Most of them had smirks on their faces, but generally looked unfazed. Chris and William, however, were in the front, their arms crossed over their chests, intimidating expressions covering their faces.

“Oh, wow. Would you look at this?” Chris suddenly piped up, throwing his arms up. “We’re out there carrying your dead weight on the field while you two are in here fucking. How great is that?” 

“Excuse me?” Isak snapped, lifting an eyebrow towards Chris.

“You heard me. We’re out there busting our asses to win this game and you two are just sitting here getting it on,” Chris repeated, anger filling his tone. “You know, Isak, I thought you were actually serious about football. But you obviously care more about getting your dick wet.”

A surge of anger coursed through Isak, and he lifted himself from the bench so he could match Chris’s height, ignoring the way Even tried to grab at his arm.

“First of all, the game was almost over. Second of all, we weren’t ‘getting it on’— I was helping Even deal with his nose and all the blood. And third, fuck you, we work damn hard on the field. Even being my boyfriend has fucking nothing to do with the way we play,” Isak barked. 

“I thought you were out because of an injured ankle, but I’m beginning to wonder if that limp of yours has anything to do with this supposed injury at all,” William chimed in, shaking his head in disdain at Isak. 

Isak clenched his teeth together, but before he could do anything physical that he would later regret, Even was standing at his side, wrapping a hand around his bicep, trying to calm him down and hold him back. The touch helped clear Isak’s mind a little bit, and he glared at Chris and William instead.

“Look. I don't give a shit who you fuck, but the championship game of Cupen is right around the corner, and if you get distracted by your dick and fuck it up for us…” The threat was left unfinished, but it was ominous enough already. 

It was Even’s turn to scoff at them. “If you seriously think we’d let our relationship fuck with the finals game, then you’ve taken too many footballs to the head. This means as much to us as it means to you,” he retorted, the bitterness leaking into his voice. 

Chris rolled his eyes and William folded his arms tighter across his chest. “Whatever. Congratulations I guess, just don't fuck it up,” Chris said. Then he was pushing past the two of them so he could head to the showers, William in tow. 

Isak let out a huff once they were gone and felt Even’s hand against his back, a silent gesture to make sure he was alright. He smiled up at Even, his stomach swooping in happiness when Even returned the grin. 

A throat suddenly cleared, breaking them out of their lovesick staring. “So you two are like, together?” Julian’s confused voice spoke up.

Isak nodded, biting his lip to hold back his huge smile as Even slipped his arm around Isak’s waist, pulling him into his side. “We are, yeah.”

“I thought you couldn't stand each other…” Julian responded, the skepticism evident in his face.  

Even laughed softly and shrugged. “We did,” he confirmed. “But we… talked through some things. Turns out we don't actually hate each other in the end.”

Julian nodded slowly. “Alright. Well, I’m happy for you two then. Fuck, it's going to be so much nicer now that you don't hate each other,” he laughed. 

“Is it though?” Jonas chimed in, laughing good naturedly. “They're going to be all over each other.” 

Isak rolled his eyes at his best friend and scoffed. “We can control ourselves, thanks very much, Jonas,” he defended.

“Mhm, okay, I'll believe it when I see it,” Jonas teased. 

“Don’t listen to Chris and William,” Mahdi added. “We don't think the same things they do, and we know you two are dedicated to the team and that you want to win just as bad.”

“Yeah, now that you two don't hate each other you’re going to be  _ so _ fucking good up top together. Damn, I can't wait to see you two in action,” Magnus gushed.

The rest of the team all chorused their agreement and soon the conversations split off as they dispersed and started to gather their things to hit the showers. 

Even turned to Isak, then, a smirk on his lips. He hooked his thumb into the side of Isak’s shorts and pulled him in, wrapping both of his arms around Isak’s waist. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Isak questioned, quirking an eyebrow curiously at Even. Even’s smirk just grew, and Isak pushed at his shoulder. “What?” he whined.

“ _My boyfriend_ ,” Even repeated Isak’s previous words, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Is that what I am?” He asked, his voice and expression softening.

Isak felt a flush run through his body at that, and he ducked his head shyly for a moment before meeting Even’s gaze. “That kind of just slipped out,” he admitted. “But I meant it. I would love it if you were my boyfriend.”

The grin that broke out across Even’s face was so big it looked as though it could split his face. His eyes practically disappeared they crinkled up so much, and suddenly he surged forward to crush their lips together. 

Clearly, Even had forgotten about his nose, because the second his lips landed on Isak’s he was pulling right back with a squeak of pain. 

Isak just laughed softly and leaned in to press a kiss to Even’s cheek.

“I really wish my nose wasn't fucked up right now. I would kiss the shit out of you, boyfriend,” Even beamed. 

_Boyfriend_ . Hearing the word fall from Even’s lips sent a thrill through Isak’s spine and he honestly couldn't believe how lucky he was. 

“I’d kiss the shit out of you too, boyfriend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Let me know what you thought with a kudos or a comment!! Those are greatly appreciated!! 
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi! :)


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